


The Sun Comes Out

by ApatheticRobots



Series: More days to come, new places to go [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Canon Compliant, POV Alternating, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26482774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApatheticRobots/pseuds/ApatheticRobots
Summary: The thing about Jasper was that it was small. There were maybe a hundred people living there, tops, and being out in the middle of the desert didn’t exactly put them in a prime position for exciting events. So like with any small town, when something noteworthy did happen, it was the only thing anybody talked about.And the only thing anyone was talking about today was the shiny red convertible that had just rolled in.
Relationships: Breakdown & June Darby, Breakdown/Knock Out
Series: More days to come, new places to go [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097273
Comments: 51
Kudos: 171





	1. Here I Am

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Come in, Roswell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25218643) by [cassette (Crescent_Blues)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crescent_Blues/pseuds/cassette). 



> Several notes I need to include; 
> 
> \- Unrelated to any of my other Transformers: Prime works.  
> \- Very, very AU. It’s a wacky combination influenced by TF:P canon, IDW canon, and my own personal canon. I’m happy to answer any questions in the comments.  
> \- It's not *really* a human AU, so I didn't want to tag it as such.  
> \- I am young and have absolutely no first hand experience with what the 80s were really like, I only know what I’ve heard from others and seen in the media, so it might seem a little like the wrong era at times. Or very stereotyped. Technically takes place in ‘87 but is also kind of just vaguely “80s.” I just like the vibes of the era :)  
> \- There is not going to be any homophobia/transphobia/racism or any bigotry used as a plot point in this fic. While I understand in reality those things were prevalent in the time period (and still very much are) I come to fiction for an escape from reality, not to perpetrate the negativity that reality brings. So if you were worried about any ‘period-typical homophobia’ or anything like that, you don’t have to be. There won’t be any of that directed at our main characters or anyone else within the fic. (Although there will be some past transphobia described at one point, or at least interpreted as such, and I'll put a warning in the notes for that chapter when it happens.)  
> \- This was written over a rather extended period of time and has had many reworks so please mind any inconsistencies.  
> \- There is a playlist for this fic. Each chapter will have the individual song for it posted in the notes, and in the last chapter I'll post the link to the full playlist.
> 
> This story is complete, and is updated on an every-other-week basis.
> 
> Designs for the boys' holoforms [here.](https://whirlandco.tumblr.com/post/629354119533117440/holoform-designs-for-my-kobd-fic-ive-just-posted)
> 
> And their respective alt-modes are [this for Breakdown](https://www.cargurus.com/Cars/1977-Jeep-Cherokee-Pictures-c6782#pictureId=20968089) and [this for Knock Out.](https://classiccars.com/listings/view/1050220/1962-aston-martin-db4-series-v-vantage-for-sale-in-maldon-essex--cm9-6uz)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is "Rock You Like A Hurricane" by Scorpions :)

Whoever said desert living was easy had obviously never lived in the desert. Breakdown lived in the desert. And as he could attest, it was _not_ easy.

It wasn't nice, desert living. The sand got in your shoes and in the folds of your clothes and in your eyes and you breathed it in so much you stopped noticing how dry your throat got. You coughed and you exhaled sand and you hardly noticed as it swirled with the sand in the air around you. The sun beat down during the day, and it burned your skin and your eyes and baked the ground itself. It lightened hair and darkened skin and yet stepping into an air-conditioned room felt more uncomfortable than the sunlight ever did. Unless it was the crappy, broken AC in the waiting room of Breakdown's shop.

That just felt like home.

As annoying as living in the desert was, he was content with the life he'd made in Jasper. The people there kept to themselves and didn't ask too many questions where Breakdown could hear. They had work for him, jobs he could do, ways to keep himself busy. They were kind. Nice company, for organics. 

He even found himself getting to know a few of them. You could only spend so much time around the same people before you ended up crossing paths more than once. And it would be rather inconspicuous if he refused any kind of socialization at all, so he was obligated to talk with them every now and then. As it turned out, they were a lot like Cybertronians, at least in the way they interacted with one another. A lot more complex than he had assumed when he’d first scanned the planet and caught wind of them.

The thing about Jasper was that it was small. There were maybe a hundred people living there, tops, and being out in the middle of the desert didn’t exactly put them in a prime position for exciting events. So like with any small town, when something noteworthy _did_ happen, it was the only thing anybody talked about.

And the only thing anyone was talking about today was the shiny red convertible that had just rolled in.

Breakdown heard the whispers as he sorted through his mail (all junk) at the post office, he caught the chatter between the ladies gathered in the kitchen where he was fixing a sink, he overheard the boys in the waiting room talking as he worked on their car out back. Cherry red and polished to a shine, it was a more expensive looking car than anyone else in Jasper owned, and the owner was, supposedly, looked just as out of place. He looked like he came from money. Evidently not from the area.

Hard to miss.

He was parked in front of Breakdown’s shop.

Breakdown saw the glare of sunlight reflecting off polished plating and heard the rumble of an engine idling. Then the slam of a car door, and the quiet jingling that signified someone entering his shop, and the click of heels over tile. _Then_ he looked up from his magazine.

Primus, the guy was practically _sashaying_ up to the counter. All swaying hips and painted nails and lips and glasses that reflected the light and hid his eyes. He stepped up and loosely crossed his hands over the desk. Tilted his head in a way that made Breakdown feel like he was being judged.

“I’ve been told,” he said in a voice that made a shiver run up Breakdown’s spine, “that you are the person to go to if one needs parts and no questions asked.”

Say something, Breakdown, stop ogling the organic. “Uh, yeah. That’s… me.”

_Nice going, idiot. Way to make a first impression._

“Excellent.” The man leaned a bit closer. The magazine in Breakdown’s hands drifted off to the side, completely ignored in favor of Breakdown staring at the veritable model that had just walked into his shop. “Because I need parts, and I don’t want questions about why I need them..”

Breakdown was being a creep. He _really_ needed to stop staring. “...Sure. What can I get you?” 

The stranger tapped his nails against the granite countertop. It made a very pleasing clicking sound. “I have a list,” he said, reaching into one of the many zippered pockets of his jacket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He slid it over, and Breakdown was very careful to make sure they didn’t make contact as he took the paper and unfolded it. Pretty standard stuff a person would need if they’d spent a lot of time on the road with minimal maintenance. Which was no doubt the case, given how much the guy looked like he didn’t belong anywhere within a hundred miles of where he was.

“Sure thing. Got all this in the back. Need me to install it too?”

“No, no,” he waved a hand. “I can do it myself.”

_With nails like that?_ Breakdown almost asked, biting his lip to stop himself from doing so. His policy was very firmly ‘no questions asked.’ So he was not going to ask questions that didn’t pertain to getting the work done.

“Give me a few,” he said, tossing the magazine under the counter and standing with a huff. “Feel free to have a seat.”

He left the room without waiting to see if the guy was actually going to sit. While anyone else would call the organization of his shop chaotic, even _messy_ if they so dared, he knew right where every little thing was stored. It only took him a few minutes and when he returned to the waiting room, the stranger had in fact not taken a seat, and was instead examining the radio sitting on the windowsill. It was the one Breakdown had taken from his ship, modified to look a little less alien and also be able to pick up Earth radio signals.

“Where did you get this?” he asked. 

“Found it,” he said, technically not lying, “fixed it up. It works alright most of the time.”

The stranger hummed, staring for a moment longer before returning to the counter. “Ah… I owe you money now, yes? How much?” 

Breakdown hummed, tapping a few buttons on the cash register to look like he was actually tallying up the total. Folks tended to say something when he just spat out a random number. He squinted at the crate of supplies. “...Forty dollars,” he said, making sure it didn’t sound like a question. He’d made that mistake once or twice. He’d also made the mistake of severely misjudging how much a “dollar” was worth. That young lady had been _very_ confused when he’d said the replacement engine was only five dollars. As had the guy that had asked for a tire replacement and learned it would cost him a couple hundred dollars. After all this time he had a pretty good idea of this place’s economy. 

“Forty, yes.” The man pulled out his wallet, rifling through it for a moment before pulling out two crisp twenty dollar bills. “This is… enough?”

“Yes.”

A decisive nod. The money was set on the counter, and Breakdown stuck it in the register. “You need a hand bringing this out?” Breakdown asked with a tilt of his head towards the box. It was no trouble for him, but it might give a human a bit of a workout.

The man hummed, then gave him a grin. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

He very much did not.

He took a moment to admire the car up close. He’d only ever seen it in passing, or heard folks talking about it, and it was really as nice as they said. Smooth curves and a clean finish, not a scratch or scrape anywhere. Not even a dip in the bumper. A convertible, obvious enough by the lack of a roof and the fabric bunched on the back. Much, much higher class than the alt Breakdown had picked. Weirdly, the steering wheel was on the opposite side as in his own chassis. Maybe this was a special model?

“See something you like?” It was practically a purr.

Breakdown flushed at having been caught staring. “Sorry. Nice car.”

The man grinned again, sharper this time. “Why thank you. Still, beauty is no excuse to be so rude, and you’re going to attract bugs if you keep gaping like that. You can put the parts in the passenger seat.”

Woops. He shut his mouth with a click, mumbling another sorry. The open roof made it easier for him to set the crate down. “Need anything else?”

There was a hum, and the man looked him up and down, and he again got the feeling he was _very much_ being judged. He tried to keep from shifting uncomfortably. “Not yet,” the man said, stepping around the car to slip into the driver’s seat. The car started, engine rumbling smoothly. “Not right now. Perhaps another time.”

He tilted his sunglasses up, winked at Breakdown with eyes that almost looked red in the sunlight, and his wheels kicked up a cloud of dust as he drove off.

Breakdown was left staring dumbly after him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on waiting until I completed the story to start posting, but it's a little harder to get through than I thought it would be, so I'm posting the first bit now in the hopes that feedback will help motivate me. With this in mind, kudos and comments are very much appreciated <3


	2. The Lean and Hungry Type

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could put himself back together most evenings. Though revenge-worthy, the damage was minimal, and nothing a few minutes with the buffer he had tucked in his subspace couldn’t fix. 
> 
> Most evenings were not this evening.
> 
> Technically morning, but he wasn’t worried about the semantics. No-- he was more worried about the two flat tires he was now sporting. He’d used the spare he’d been carrying around after an altercation with a particularly hard-to-spot pothole, and he was not going to drive around on two flats for the time it took to find a different mechanic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2-- This story's gonna be in a switching perspectives format, I think that's the best way to get the most out of the misunderstanding, so each chapter will be from one of their POVs going in a regular pattern.
> 
> I've gotten a bit more work done, with 11/14 chapters fully complete and 2 more WIPs, but I've hit a bit of a roadblock so Im still keeping with the every two weeks update schedule.
> 
> The song for this chapter is "Maneater" by Daryll Hall & John Oates.

If he was being totally honest, Knock Out was not planning to stay in the little desert hovel he’d come across for very long. It was small, didn’t look all that exciting, and had almost nothing in the way of entertainment. He needed repairs though, had gone far too long without them, and he’d seen the junkyard at the edge of the town when he’d first arrived. It was sheer luck the owner was so willing to just give him the part he needed in peace, not try to take things into his own servos.

After so much time, Knock Out had learned well enough that the brawnier humans always tended to be  _ pushier. _

That didn’t seem to be the case with the man in the junkyard, though.

Brawny, certainly, but far from pushy. He seemed rather  _ meek _ from the little that Knock Out spoke to him. Stuttering and unsure, holding himself like he was much smaller than his true size. Plus the absolute reverence in his expression when he’d seen Knock Out was terribly endearing. All in all, not the worst interaction he’d had since coming here. Far from it.

Not quite worth sticking around for.

However, the car speeding past him with a honk of their horn (a clear invitation) just might have been. Who knew such a drab looking town would have such riveting nightlife? Or such a populated racing circuit.

He supposed it made an amount of sense. Most of the folks clearly weren’t from here, and such a small town was likely to have fewer police officers that would take note of such an activity. The ones they did have were no doubt overworked, underpaid, and rarely paid much attention to what went on in the less populated corners of the town. A prime position for some folks needing a space to drive.

As he learned rather quickly, the racers in this circuit played  _ dirty. _

He could put himself back together most evenings. Though revenge-worthy, the damage was minimal, and nothing a few minutes with the buffer he had tucked in his subspace couldn’t fix. 

Most evenings were not this evening.

Technically morning, but he wasn’t worried about the semantics. No-- he was more worried about the two flat tires he was now sporting. He’d used the spare he’d been carrying around after an altercation with a particularly hard-to-spot pothole, and he was  _ not _ going to drive around on two flats for the time it took to find a different mechanic.

So he buried his pride and parked in front of the mechanic’s shop. It was earlier than he was used to most businesses being open. Luckily.

The mechanic was once again seated behind his counter when Knock Out walked in, poking at a small device, and he looked up as the little bell above the door rang. His eyes widened a bit. “Oh,” he said. “Uh, hi.”

Knock Out smiled dryly. “Hello.”

A few moments of decidedly awkward silence before the mechanic spoke again; “is there… something you needed?”

“Tire replacement,” Knock Out said, “two of them.”

The device in his hands was set down somewhere under the counter, and he stood. “Lemme take a look. If y’ don’t mind.” Still not being pushy, that was nice. And while Knock Out was all for letting people ogle him as he drove by (he knew he was attractive) the idea of having greasy organic hands all up in his grill was… pretty damn disgusting. Unfortunately, he had little choice.

“Of course not.” He headed outside, not waiting for the mechanic to follow.

When the mechanic caught sight of his frame, battered and scraped and down two tires, he grit his teeth and winced. “Ouch,” he muttered. “What happened?”

“Thought you didn’t ask questions?”

Another wince, though this one less pained and more embarrassed. “Uh, sorry.”

The meekness was as endearing as it was annoying. Knock Out rolled his eyes, even though he knew the mechanic couldn’t see behind his glasses. “If you must know, I was racing.” He doubted this man was the sort to report him to anybody. Plus it wasn’t like the police could actually catch him if they tried to chase him down. He would leave their feeble little hatchbacks in the  _ dirt. _

The mechanic didn’t look away from where he was knelt down examining the tires. At least he wasn’t actually  _ touching _ Knock Out. “Racing, huh? I used to do that.”

Knock Out’s eyes widened. “Really, now?” That was interesting. Also the first thing he’d really learned about the mechanic. “Where?”

“Back home. On--” The mechanic stopped short. “Just… back home.”

...How odd.

Knock Out wouldn’t pry. Yet.

“Well, if you’re ever looking to give it another go, I know a few people. People who would  _ happily _ do a favor for me. And if that favor was getting you onto a good track, well, could consider it payment for repair service, hm?”

The mechanic laughed, bracing his hands on the sidewalk to push himself to his feet. “Nah, I’m good. I left that life behind a long time ago. I’ll keep that promise of a favor in mind, though.”

His loss.

“I can fix ‘em up just fine, I’ve got the spares I need in the back. Got a lift if you don’t mind driving around the side.” He tilted his head in the indicated direction. Then he paused, and his cheeks went a little darker. “Or… if you wanted to do it yourself. You can still borrow the lift. Should’a asked, sorry.” 

“No need to apologize.” Knock Out hummed. His undercarriage wasn’t exactly something he was keen to put on display… but this man had been so careful with his frame earlier. Hadn’t even grabbed on to pull himself up. He supposed he could deal with it. “You can do the repairs. Call it a skill assessment. If you do an alright job with the tires, I’ll consider asking you to fix those scuffs as well.”

  
The mechanic blinked. “Oh, I was just gonna do those anyways. Free of charge, they won’t take much work.”

“Handy with a buffer, are you?”

A sheepish grin. “I’m… not unskilled.”

_ Very _ interesting.

“Go ahead and give it your best shot, then,” Knock Out said. His expression went cold. “Scratch my paint, though, and I’ll have your hands.”

“I won’t! Promise.” He didn’t seem too perturbed by the threat. Knock Out was liking this man more and more by the minute. “Drive around back. I’ll get the lift set up.” And he turned and headed back into the shop.

He did as he was directed, and after stepping out, made sure the mechanic wasn’t looking before carefully adjusting his tires to be even with the lift. He kept still when he heard the creak of a door opening. The mechanic came out with two spare tires tucked under one arm (and damn if that effortless show of strength didn’t make Knock Out’s engine rev just a little), and set them down near the lift before pulling the lever to haul Knock Out’s frame off the ground.

The mechanic was pretty respectful about the whole thing. He kept his focus strictly on the tires he was replacing, and didn't take the opportunity he had to ogle Knock Out’s frame. 

“I’m Blake, by the way,” he said after a minute or two of working in silence. “Blake Downey.”

“Aston Martin,” Knock Out replied. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

And they returned to silence. It was somewhere between awkward and comfortable, with only the quiet sound of Blake working to fill it. Knock Out pulled up an old looking chair from up against the wall and sat down after a minute or two. It didn’t take long for Blake to replace the two flats, and when he went to put his tools away, he came back with a rotary buffer and a container of wax. “If you don’t mind,” he said, gesturing to the items in his hands. “I’ll be careful.”

Again, the idea of hands on his chassis wasn’t that appealing. However, the idea of a full buff and wax  _ was, _ and it had been quite some time since he’d been able to just relax and enjoy it. “Alright,” he said. “Go right ahead.”

Blake gave him a grin, then promptly got to work.

Twenty minutes later, he was practically a puddle where he sat, needing to put conscious effort into keeping his holoform solid and present. Stars, but could Blake work a buffer. Knock Out had yet to run across a human whose abilities even slightly rivaled his own, and here he was in this piddly town in the middle of nowhere, with a mechanic that might have even been  _ better _ than him.

“Aston?” Blake’s voice snapped him out of his daze. “You okay?”

“Oh, just  _ marvelous.” _ He sat up a bit straighter, trying to regain the composure he always did his best to keep. “You are  _ quite _ the artisan.”

Blake flushed. “Just got a lot of experience, that’s all,” he mumbled. “Want th’ wax too?”

Yes.  _ Please. _ “Mm, no,” he said instead. As much as he very much  _ did _ want those skilled hands on his frame some more, if he got any more relaxed he really would lose a hold on his holoform. And that would not be good. “I’ll take you up on the offer someday, though. I’ll be in town for a while.”

“Really?”

“What, with such interesting company?” He said with a pointed tilt of his head in Blake’s direction. “Yes, I think I’ll be sticking around for quite some time.”

The blush on the other man’s cheeks darkened further. It was oddly endearing, just like the rest of his mannerisms. 

“How much do I owe you for all this?” Money was still a little confusing, but he was usually able to pass off any confusion as simply not being from the area. Human assumptions really did come in handy sometimes.

“Ah… it’s… on the house?”

Knock Out blinked. “What does that mean?”

“I’m… not entirely sure.” Blake frowned. Why had he used the expression if he didn’t know what it meant? Humans were weird. “You don’t have to pay for it.”

That put him on edge. Normally when humans said he didn’t have to pay for something, or that it was free, they really meant they wanted something  _ else _ as payment. It was only the fact that Blake really didn’t seem the type that kept him from immediately booking it. “Why not?”   
  


Blake shrugged. “‘Cause I had a good time hanging out. That’s enough payment for me. Don’t really need the money all that much.” 

Was it truly that simple? “...Alright.”

“Just…” There it was. “Maybe visit again sometime?”

...Or not. “I think that can be arranged.” Blake didn’t have to know he was already planning on it.

The mechanic gave him a wide grin, cheeks still pleasantly flushed. It was a good look on him. If… humans could look good at all. “Great. Thanks for coming by.”

“Of course. Thank  _ you _ for the excellent work.” Knock Out slid behind his wheel, tilting his head up so the light caught on his glasses and giving Blake a sharp-toothed grin. “Be seeing you around, Blake.”

“You too.” Blake gave him a one-handed wave, and Knock Out saw him head back into the shop with a goofy smile on his face as he drove away.

Maybe the mechanic  _ was _ worth sticking around for. Just for a little while longer, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the nice comments on the last chapter definitely helped give me the motivation to do as much work as I did in the last two weeks so thank yall <3


	3. Hoping It'll All Work Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakdown flushed. “Well, he’s… pretty.”
> 
> “You mentioned,” June said, clear amusement in her tone. “He _real_ pretty?”
> 
> He sighed. “He’s _real_ pretty, June."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter after this is still a WIP, so next week's update may be a little delayed, but after that I have a good handful of chapters done before the next unfinished one. keeping the 2-week update schedule.
> 
> Song for this chapter is "Working for the Weekend" by Loverboy

Breakdown tried to ignore the jolt in his chest at the sound of the little bell above his door. There was absolutely no reason to assume it might be Aston, it wasn’t like he was the only customer that ever came by. Far from it, actually; he’d only been by a handful of times while he had other patrons who visited nigh daily.

The one walking in wasn’t quite that regular, but she’d been around enough times for Breakdown to consider them something like friends at this point.

“June,” he said, giving the woman a smile, “it’s nice to see you.”

“You too, Blake.” She set her purse on the counter with a huff. “It’s that damn car again.”

Her car was something old, poorly maintained, and seemed to have a new problem every other week. Breakdown would’ve been able to make a fortune from fixing it if he didn’t know June’s job at the hospital in a nearby town didn’t pay too well and therefore rarely charged her as much as he probably should have. 

“What’s wrong with it this time?”

“It’s the brakes I think. Every time I stop they make this terrible noise. It might be something simple like a stick caught in the gears, but I don’t want to keep driving if there’s something really wrong, you know?”

“‘Course. Weird noises are never good. Pull her around and I’ll take a look.”

They’d done this routine enough times that he didn’t have to point out where June needed to go. He left her to bring her car around while he grabbed his toolkit from where he stored it under the desk. It probably wasn’t anything  _ that _ serious-- she’d managed to drive here, after all-- but he didn’t want her going around in a damaged car any longer than she had to. Not only because it spoke badly about him being her regular mechanic, but because it was just plain dangerous.

She pulled over her usual chair (the one Aston had occupied last time he’d been by, in fact) while he got to work looking over the car’s internals.

“So,” June began, “you see that pretty red convertible that pulled into town recently?”

Of course. He was all anyone was talking about, June hadn’t seen Breakdown since he’d arrived, and she knew he had an appreciation for nice cars. Of course she’d bring it up to him. “I have,” he said, reaching blindly for a wrench that she nudged towards him with her toe. “Thanks. I have seen him. He’s come by a couple times.”

“Ooh, details!”

Breakdown laughed. “His name’s Aston,” he said. “Real pretty fella. His car’s real nice, too. It’s weird-- his wheel’s not on the same side as most cars I’ve seen.”

“Foreigner, huh?” Breakdown pulled away from the car to give her a confused look. “They drive on the other side of the road in other countries, so their cars are built opposite ours. Probably European, if I had to guess, but I’m far from an expert. I’m surprised you didn’t know that, with how much you know about cars.” 

“Ah, well, I’ve never really been anywhere else.” That sounded vague enough, right?

Apparently, because June didn’t ask about it. “Makes sense. I visited England once with some family, that’s the only reason I know. Anyways, enough about the car-- tell me more about the driver. What’s he like?”

Breakdown flushed. “Well, he’s… pretty.”

“You mentioned,” June said, clear amusement in her tone. “He  _ real _ pretty?”

He sighed. “He’s  _ real _ pretty, June. And he’s a charmer, too. Keeps winking at me and stuff. And his voice-- I’m in deep, and I’ve only met the guy a couple times at most.” They’d spoken maybe four times, tops, only three of which Breakdown actually knew the guy’s name for, and he was already thinking about him at every hour of the day. It had been a long time since he’d fallen as hard as this.

June laughed, though stifled it a moment later; “Sorry, not laughing. Just not used to seeing this side of you. Gonna try anything?”

“I don’t know.” Breakdown pulled out her car’s worn brake pads. That was the issue. They were designed to make a pretty bad noise when they needed to be replaced. “I mean-- he doesn’t really seem like the kind of guy to stick around, you know? I don’t wanna set myself up for failure when he decides to move on.”

The woman hummed, nodding as though inviting him to continue.

“And I mean-- we’re not… compatible.”

“Not  _ compatible? _ Blake, with heels like those, I doubt he’s straight.”

“Not like that.” He gave her a look. She raised her hands in a motion of mock surrender, a sort of ‘I’m just saying’ gesture. “We’re just so… different.” Fundamentally. Aston was human, and he… wasn’t. “Like,  _ really _ different. Two complete opposites.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘opposites attract’?”

“Not like that either. I mean…” He sighed. “I can’t really explain it. I just don’t think we could last.”

June tilted her head, staring at him for a moment. She got that look sometimes, the one that made it seem as though she was trying to piece together every part of your processor just by looking at you. She called it her ‘mom look’ whenever he pointed it out. It always made him a little uncomfortable, but he knew she never had ill intent.

“I think you should go for it,” June said. “Even if it ends up falling apart, at least you had good times while they lasted, right? So what if it’s temporary? It happened. Then you’ll have some good memories to look back on.”

He fitted the replacement brake pads into place. “You really think I oughta give it a shot?”

“I do. Waiting around never gets anyone anywhere.”

Another job well done. He was pretty good at what he did-- Earth systems tended to be a lot simpler than Cybertronian ones. “...Alright. I’ll try. Thanks, June.”

“No, thank  _ you _ for the excellent work! I swear this thing would’ve given out on me ages ago if you hadn’t been here to fix it up.” His hands were stained, so instead of shaking it she just bumped her elbow against his. “How much do I owe you?”

“Ehh… It’s free. You paid with good advice.”

“That’s a terrible business model.”

“Hey, my shop, my rules, right?”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she got into her car and waved goodbye. He headed back into the shop once she was gone.

Give it a shot, huh?

Here’s hoping he didn’t end up missing fantastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest I didn't intend for June to show up, she just kind of did while I was writing. i love her


	4. Who Am I to Disagree?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So what are we seeing, anyways?”
> 
> “Ah…” Blake shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. I just thought we’d see what was playing.” 
> 
> Hm. Spontaneity. Not exactly how Knock Out liked to do things, but he’d manage. It couldn’t be too terrible, whatever it was.
> 
> Besides, the movie wasn’t really what he was here for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ive got an appointment Tuesday and prolly won't be able to update so here's chapter 4 early. this one gave me so much trouble and im still not really satisfied but it got the point across idk i dont wanna think abt it anymore lol
> 
> song for this chapter is "Sweet Dreams" by Eurythmics if you dont know this song god help you

It was more pity than anything that had Knock Out agreeing to go see a movie with Blake when the mechanic asked. There was also the fact that he’d just finished giving Knock Out a full wash, buff,  _ and _ wax when he popped the question and Knock Out was basically a holo puddle on the sofa that made him much more agreeable, but he digressed. He wasn’t actually expecting it to be anything more than him humoring Blake for a few hours before the big guy tried to get his clothes off.

That was just how humans were.

Blake had offered to pick him up, which was a nice gesture if it weren’t for the fact that Knock Out didn’t actually have a place he was staying. So instead he parked himself somewhere quiet and met him at his shop.

“Oh!” He practically lit up when he saw Knock Out coming up the sidewalk. It was… cute. “You’re early, I haven’t finished closing up yet. Give me a minute.” And he vanished into the shop. It wasn’t that nice leaving him waiting. But he’d come all this way; he wasn’t going to turn and leave now because of a little rudeness on Blake’s part.

Rather than the man returning, there was instead the quiet honk of a horn, and the rumbling of an engine as a solid looking truck pulled forward from around back.

Definitely built for strength over speed or looks, his car wasn’t quite  _ bad _ to look at. It was actually rather nice. Knock Out wouldn’t be caught dead using it as an alt, but from an outsider standpoint? He could definitely appreciate bulky toughness. He gave the car an appreciative once-over as the window rolled down and Blake grinned at him from the driver’s seat. “Hop in.”

The idea of getting in a car that wasn’t… well, himself was wildly unappealing, but he couldn’t exactly decline without sounding crazy. At least Blake’s interior was clean. (Almost spotless, actually; he wondered how often the man actually drove anywhere.)

Blake hummed to himself as he drove, tapping on the steering wheel and fidgeting with dials on his dashboard. Restless energy-- Knock Out could understand the feeling well enough.

“So what  _ are _ we seeing, anyways?”

“Ah…” Blake shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. I just thought we’d see what was playing.” 

Hm. Spontaneity. Not exactly how Knock Out liked to do things, but he’d manage. It couldn’t be too terrible, whatever it was.

Besides, the movie wasn’t really what he was here for.

It was a short drive, most of which Knock Out spent watching the landscape go by or watching Blake as he fidgeted with the wheel and the dashboard. Jasper didn’t have much actually in the town, but it  _ did _ have a drive-in theater. 

_ Little Shop of Horrors, _ the sign proclaimed was playing tonight. At least it  _ sounded _ like a horror film, the sort he’d come to almost like in his time being here, but he knew well enough that names could be misleading. Blake leaned out the window to talk to the person handing out tickets, and was directed to a parking spot by a teenager in an orange vest. 

Blake fiddled with the radio to find the right station, and Knock Out got settled.

As he shifted in the passenger seat to get a bit more comfortable and Blake found the theater’s station, he caught sight of the man looking at him with something like confusion on his face. “What? Is something wrong?” He had to admit, he’d gotten used to not being leered at. (Though this wasn’t really a leer, he supposed. But it was dangerously close to one.)

“Your, uh.” He tapped at his own temple. “Your glasses. I mean, it’s kinda dark, are you… gonna leave ‘em on?”

Oh. Knock Out reached up to brush a hand against the side of the frames. He’d almost forgotten he was wearing them. But as for Blake’s question; “Yes, I am. I can see well enough.” He’d never quite gotten the hang of making his eyes colored like a human’s or making them not glow. The sunglasses usually stopped people from asking questions.

“Do you ever take them off?”

“No, not really.”

“Huh.” A shrug. “Alright.”

  
Well, that was awfully simple. Blake must have been a special sort of human. The ones he was used to never knew how to shut up.

The movie was… well, interesting, to say the least. Knock Out may have been made of metal and not organic material but he couldn’t help noticing the (few and far between) similarities between his own situation and that of the movie’s villain. Crash-landed on Earth, forced to rely on the assistance of humans, charming… Not opposed to murder when the situation demanded. He liked to think he was a good bit better looking than a multi-limbed, slobbering plant monster, though.

Humans did seem to have quite the fascination with stories in which alien invaders came to Earth, usually with an emphasis on what a danger the aliens posed. There were so few pieces of media where the aliens were on the side of good. 

And so many more where the aliens were vanquished in the end by the heroic humans.

It was no wonder he opted to keep his identity a secret. As sympathetic as some humans may have been (his viewing of that one movie “E.T.” came to mind) there would always be ones looking to do harm to any kind of outside party.

Blake was oddly quiet as he drove back towards his shop. He kept his eyes on the road, and had an… almost somber expression on his face. Knock Out  _ almost _ asked what was wrong. Almost. But not quite.

“Can I drop you anywhere?” 

“Just outside your shop is fine,” Knock Out said quietly. “I’ll walk to my car from there.”

“...Okay.” 

The rest of the drive went in silence. Knock Out fidgeted with one of the zippers on his coat, the buttons on his sleeves, anything to keep his hands busy. When that proved dissatisfying he moved to tapping out a rhythm on the door he was halfway leaning against. The click of his nails on the interior were the only noise for a while.

Blake pulled to a stop in front of his shop and idled the engine, though didn't turn the car off. Instead he paused with his hands on the steering wheel. Knock Out looked over, putting a curious expression on his face, one that deepened a bit as he saw the flush darkening the man's cheeks. What was  _ that _ about?

“Hey, um…”

Ah. There it was. He had seemed nice, but really, it was only a matter of time. Humans were all the same once you really got down to it. There was already a denial on the edge of Knock Out’s vocalizer when Blake shook his head. 

“Nevermind. Did you like the movie?”

…

..Huh.

He should really stop just making so many assumptions about the guy, shouldn’t he? 

“It was passable.” Pretty bad, actually. “But I enjoyed seeing it with you.” He hadn’t agreed because he actually wanted to see whatever cheesy horror flick was playing at the drive-in. He’d agreed because Blake was charming. 

Blake gave him a look that was simultaneously startled and flattered. A silly little smile with a blush dusting his cheeks. It was… cute. 

“Thanks for tonight.” He leaned over the center console to press a soft kiss to Blake’s cheek, then moved back and climbed out of the car before waiting for a response. He shut the door, pausing only to lean on the windowsill and give the shocked looking human a sharp grin. “See you around, Blake Downey.” 

And he turned and walked away down the darkened sidewalk, pretending he couldn’t feel the eyes on him as he left.


	5. All for Freedom and for Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Blake?”
> 
> Breakdown looked over at the sound of the name he’d had to train himself to respond to. Aston had moved his legs from the table and pulled them up in his chair. “Yeah?”
> 
> Without looking away from the stars, Aston spoke; “A while ago you mentioned that you used to race. ‘Back home,’ you said.” He flexed his hands again, curling pointed fingernails in the pristine fabric of his slacks. “Would you tell me about it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> deadass thought i had to upload chapter 4 today. i was Wrong. 
> 
> anyways heres where we really start getting into the "me taking canon backstories out behind the woodshed" thing. im mashing stuff together and making stuff up.
> 
> Song for this chapter is "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Tears for Fears (not the Lorde version)

The crime rate in Jasper wasn't exactly high. Yeah, there was the occasional case of vandalidm, a couple drunk teenagers doing something stupid, but major crime? Rare. Very rare. A lot of folks tended to not even bother locking their doors; they knew their neighbors, trusted them. No one came to Jasper just to rob a house there.

Or a store, probably. But Breakdown still locked his doors. Call it paranoia, call it what you would, but for once he had a door to lock and he wasn't going to waste the opportunity.

People who knew Breakdown knew you didn't mess with him. People who didn't know Breakdown learned fast.

The person on the other side of the door currently trying to pick the lock was about to get one hell of an education. Anyone else probably wouldn’t recognize the sound for what it was, but spending enough time sharing a space with another mech and spending time in poorer districts made the sound a familiar one.

There was a quiet click and a muffled curse, and the moment the scraping stopped he flicked the lock and wrenched the door open, putting on his most intimidating glare.

Aston just looked up at him with an unreadable expression. "Oh, good, you're up."

Any intimidation immediately fell and gave way to confusion. "...What the hell?" He hadn’t come by after their little jaunt to the drive-in, and Breakdown’s failed attempt to ask him on a date, and Breakdown had figured that meant he wasn’t gonna come by again. But here he was, trying to break into the shop at some late hour. It gave a mech mixed signals. 

“Are you going to let me in or not?”

Too dumbfounded to do much of anything else, Breakdown stepped aside, allowing Aston to strut past him and into the shop, hopping up to sit on the counter. He crossed his legs at the ankles and sighed. “How do you do it?” He asked. “You always seem so positive all the time. Don’t you get sick of it?”

Breakdown closed the door, still sort of processing what had just happened. “Um, I guess I don’t really know what else to do.”

“Be miserable?”

“Sure, but where would that get me?”

Aston stared at him for a moment. He couldn’t actually see his full expression behind the tinted glasses, but his lips were pursed sourly. “See, that’s exactly what I mean. I  _ know _ it’s a waste of time, but I can’t stop myself from getting all…” He gestured vaguely, making a disgusted noise.

Breakdown mimicked the noise with a skeptical look.

That got him a frown. “I don’t have the  _ words _ . Whatever it is, it’s a terrible feeling.”

Breakdown kind of understood. When he’d first gotten to Earth, there had been a while when he’d had random days where he just felt like scrap. He hadn’t done much of anything those days, just sat around in alt-mode with his engine off. It hadn’t happened in a while. But he remembered what it was like well enough. “You wanna just… hang out here for a while? Take a break?”

He was pretty sure Aston was going for a pitiable look with all his pouting. “You don’t mind?”

“Nah,” Breakdown locked the door again. “I wasn’t really doing anything.” He headed past where Aston was seated on the counter. The man followed his movements with a frown.

“Where are you going?”

“Out back. Wanna join me?”

A low hum. Then; “alright.”

‘Out back’ was a little wooden porch out through the back door of the apartment attached to his shop. He’d set up a couple chairs he’d found and fixed up, a small table, as well as a little radio. This one, unlike the one he’d jury-rigged from his ship that belonged out in the lobby, was strictly of Earth make. It was small and picked up static more often than not, but Breakdown took comfort in the fact he knew no one would try to contact him through it.

He glanced at the cooler near the railing. One of his clients hadn’t had the amount of money he’d asked for, and Breakdown had been totally prepared to just tell him it was free, but he’d offered a ‘twelve pack’ instead. Breakdown had taken it, because it seemed like the right thing to do, but he didn’t actually know what the cans were. 

He had learned quickly that it wasn’t fuel and tasted like rust. So it went in the cooler out back and he forgot about it.

Maybe it was like coffee? Folks would often offer him coffee when he did house calls. Should he offer Aston one? Would it be rude? Primus, there was a reason he didn’t invite people to stick around very often, this hospitality thing was hard. 

“What do you do out here?”

He looked over. Aston had taken the cleanest looking chair a few paces away from Breakdown’s, and was sprawled out in it, heeled boots kicked up on the table. He’d made himself right at home, apparently.

  
Breakdown shrugged. “Listen to the radio. Look at the stars. You can see ‘em real good out here, not too much light pollution.”

Aston’s expression soured. “I think I’ve had enough of looking at the stars for one lifetime, thank you. Spent far too much time staring at them on my way here.” He flexed his hands once or twice, the light catching on his painted nails. After a moment of silence he contradicted himself by leaning back in the chair a bit so he could tilt his head up and stare at the sky. “...I suppose they look a good bit different from here, though.”

That, at least, he understood. Probably not to the same degree, as the difference between the night sky from different parts of the same planet were usually negligible, but the difference between the night sky here and the one back on Cybertron was distinct.

For instance, they only had one moon.

“Blake?”

Breakdown looked over at the sound of the name he’d had to train himself to respond to. Aston had moved his legs from the table and pulled them up in his chair. “Yeah?”

Without looking away from the stars, Aston spoke; “A while ago you mentioned that you used to race. ‘Back home,’ you said.” He flexed his hands again, curling pointed fingernails in the pristine fabric of his slacks. “Would you tell me about it?”

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. This was a slippery slope to him accidentally spilling a little too much, being a little too honest, and getting some very suspicious humans knocking at his door. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Aston. Rather, he didn’t trust himself to not say something incriminating, something that would scare the guy off.

But Aston had his head tilted in such a way that Breakdown could almost see his eyes, and everything was kind of hazy and warm under the soft porch light, and the chirping crickets and quiet music made for a nice ambience. And Breakdown was tired of not having anyone to talk to.

“It… wasn’t super nice,” he said stiltedly, struggling to find vague enough words. “Rules were strict. Getting a job was complicated. There was a lot of discrimination against anyone who didn’t fit the bill.” Anyone who wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t  _ shiny _ enough. “I didn’t fit the bill.” Big, lumbering Breakdown, always miles behind everyone else. Too slow to fit the Velocitronian model and too bulky for Cybertron’s taste. “My, uh,  _ hometown _ was the worst. There were some folks there who… well, I s’pose I’d call ‘em family. They were the closest thing I had, anyways. But they weren’t all that nice.”

His gestalt-mates were okay. He’d liked some better than others. Motormaster had been the worst.

“Eventually managed to get away from them and all the expectations,” he said, wincing as he remembered the pain that had torn through his spark when he’d broken the bond, “but where I moved from there wasn’t much better. They cared about different things. But I still wasn’t good enough.”

There was the scrape of metal as Aston scooted his chair a bit closer, having finally drawn his gaze away from the night sky so it was now totally centered on Breakdown and what he was saying. His expression was carefully neutral.

“So yeah, I used to race. Everyone did. I’ve always been kinda slow, though, so… I didn’t have a lot of friends.” Or money. Or importance at all. Relying on his gestalt and being the slowest out of all of them, slowest mech on Velocitron. “Eventually I figured out I could just leave, and I did, and I never looked back. Don’t miss it. I like this place a lot more. Folks around here don’t care too much about that.”

Aston hummed. “I know what you mean.”

Consider him curious. Breakdown looked over, hesitating only for a moment when he realized Aston had wound up seated mere inches from him. “What about you?” he asked. “What’s it like where you come from?”

That immediately drew a scowl. “Pompous,” he said (spat, rather). “Elitist.  _ Tacky.” _ From what he knew of Aston, ‘tacky’ was easily the worst insult on that list. “Very, very traditionalist. Much like your own place of origin, I suppose, they had very little tolerance for anyone who didn’t fit their precise mold.” 

That sounded like a lot of pent up bitterness. Breakdown shifted the slightest bit closer and sat back to listen.


	6. With Somebody Who Loves Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking about his history wasn’t something Knock Out did for fun. In fact, he kind of loathed thinking about where he’d come from, what he used to be. But it was only fair; Blake had spoken about his own clearly unpleasant history, it would be dreadfully rude of Knock Out to refuse to share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter is "I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me)" by Whitney Houston because im gay and predictable.
> 
> also normally theres a bit of a time jump between chapters but this one picks up right where the previous one left off
> 
> fuck canon backstories all my homies hate canon backstories. also brief TW for implied transphobia sort of?? like its an allegory and definitely interpreted as such even if its not *technically* transphobia.

Talking about his history wasn’t something Knock Out did for fun. In fact, he kind of loathed thinking about where he’d come from, what he used to be. But it was only fair; Blake had spoken about his own clearly unpleasant history, it would be dreadfully rude of Knock Out to refuse to share.

“It was a very high class place, over all,” he said, thinking of Vos’s glittering spires, of the view from the air. “So long as you were part of said high class. Trust me, trying to live there as--” a grounder “--someone who  _ wasn’t _ part of it would get you at best inconvenienced, and at worst suffering bodily harm. A very closed-minded population.” He himself had been similarly bigoted. In the beginning, at least-- then he’d learned better.

“I decided I didn’t want to be what they had told me I had to be. I didn’t want to keep the… the life I’d been born with. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like  _ me. _ ” Flying had been nice, but it couldn’t compare to the feeling of smooth pavement beneath his tires. “So I changed. And, well. You could probably assume such, but my friends and family didn’t exactly take it kindly.”

There was the barest hint of movement beside him, and a moment later an arm wrapped around his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, well, what’s done is done,” he said with a sigh. “It was a long time ago. Anyone who mattered got over themselves, and I don’t worry about the ones who didn’t. I made this choice. They can live with it, or I can live without them.”

While all his ego may have been posturing at one point, making up for his lack of self-confidence following his choice to change his frame, that time had long-since passed. Now he really did just think that highly of himself. He looked good, he  _ knew _ he looked good, and he felt good too. Which was the important part. Not whatever he may or may not have still felt towards his former home.

“...Do you miss it?”

Damn. Did he really have to ask  _ that _ question?

Knock Out didn’t answer, just bit his lip and looked away, pressing his cheek against Blake’s arm where it was still wrapped around him. He didn’t  _ want _ to miss it. He wanted to never think about it again, because the more he thought about it, the more he thought he might have.

Blake pulled his arm away, and Knock Out almost protested before he cut the noise short. A little sadness wasn’t enough to make him look that desperate.

The man stood, picking up the radio and fiddling with it for a moment. A moment later, there was a crackle of static and the music changed from something instrumental and slow to something loud and animated. 

Then he turned to Knock Out and grinned.

Knock Out gave him an incredulous look as he wiggled his outstretched fingers. There was only one thing he could be asking for.

“Dance with me?”

“You’re joking,” he said. “Really?”

“C’mon! It’ll be fun.” 

The radio played on cheerfully. This was ridiculous, it was demeaning, it was the kind of thing that would have the mechs he knew back on Cybertron scoffing at him. Dancing was meant for ornate ballrooms, it was done quietly and respectfully as a courteous gesture. It was  _ not _ done out of the blue in a dingy junkyard with an accompaniment of static-laden cheesy pop tunes. Which was exactly why Knock Out was actually thinking about saying yes.

He didn't really know why he'd come to visit Blake in the first place. He'd claimed annoyance with the concept of optimism, but it was something a lot closer to loneliness, which he would absolutely never admit. Being alone on an alien planet kind of "blew" as the humans would say. Being with Blake made him feel a little less alone. Both literally, and metaphorically; sometimes he felt like the man just understood him in a way he'd yet to find anywhere else on Earth.

Plus, if nothing else, this would offer a good distraction from any lingering thoughts of Cybertron still floating around in his processor. Making him all sad and stuff.

“Alright,” he said, taking the offered hand right as the song reached its first chorus, “ _ one _ dance.”

Blake smiled like the sun, pulling Knock Out down the porch stairs, out into a space clear of any junk, and into a messy hold. Uncoordinated, untrained, and Knock Out snorted out a laugh before he could think to school it into something more refined.  _ Nothing _ about this was refined. And it was fantastic.

Knock Out had to shift quickly to keep them from tripping over each other, taking the lead as the first song ramped up to a chorus. He realized as the first song ended and the second one began that technically, his one dance was over, and he was well within his rights to pull away. To stop whatever was going on before it got to be too much. Then the lyrics kicked in and Knock Out realized they were  _ way _ too on-the-nose for him to stop now without making it incredibly weird. He also realized he was having  _ fun.  _ How novel.

He let Blake lead this time, their movements turning to more of an awkward sway than any actual dancing. He rested his head against Blake’s shoulder, and after a moment Blake pressed his cheek to Knock Out’s forehead. The taller, in what Knock Out was starting to realize was just completely in-character sincerity, didn’t voice a single complaint about the fact that the edge of Knock Out’s glasses were almost certainly pressing uncomfortably into his skin. He just hummed contentedly.

Maybe it was a little more intimate than would be expected, but there was no one else around they needed to keep appearances with. Just him and Blake and the radio serenading them. 

“This is nice,” Knock Out murmured into the fabric of Blake’s shirt. “This place. I like it here.” He meant Earth in general, but he’d sound like a weirdo if he clarified. This way Blake would just assume he meant Jasper. Which was still true, just rather specific.

“Same here. I’m glad I decided to stay.” His hold tightened. “I’m glad you decided to stay, too.”

He’d have been inclined to say something along the lines of “slow down, I haven’t made any decisions yet,” if it wasn’t for the fact that his processor wasn’t really disagreeing with what Blake had said. He wanted to stay. He wanted… whatever this was. The dancing, and the airy feeling in his chest that came with it. He wanted to  _ stay. _

Though, maybe not for the night. Not just yet.

The song ended, and they were left standing there in the dark, Knock Out’s face buried in several layers of fabric and sturdy arms wrapped around him. He had missed this. It wasn’t the same as contact while in his actual body, but there was still a degree of comfort that came from the closeness. As aloof as he acted, he’d never said he liked solitude. Actually, he was a bit of an extrovert. Being alone for a long time didn’t often end well for him.

He liked hanging out with Blake. The evening had been nice. He knew they could never take things as slow as he was used to, human lifespans and all, but he also didn’t want to take things  _ too  _ quickly.

“Thank you for this,” he mumbled. “I needed it.”

The arms around him tightened almost imperceptibly. “Glad I could help. Any time you wanna come by, feel free, okay? Even if I’m not open.”

“That’s a lofty offer you’re making.” It was a meaningful gesture, though. That he was willing to bend the rules for Knock Out’s sake. “I may just take you up on it. My days get pretty boring.” There was only so much desert he could look at before it got dull and repetitive.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want you here,” Blake said simply.

His easy-going demeanor was awfully refreshing sometimes. A welcome change from the overthinking he was used to. Blake took everything in stride, and it helped Knock Out adjust too. He was almost glad he’d gotten so scraped up that day and decided to get a little outside help. The idea that he might have driven right past, not stopped for repairs and not met the one person he truly felt a connection to since arriving on this Primus-forsaken world, left a terrible feeling in his spark.

Knock Out pressed closer against Blake for just a moment, letting the warmth from the other wash over his holoform. Then he pulled away with a grin.

“I had fun tonight,” he said. “Let’s do this again sometime.”

With goodbyes exchanged, he headed through the shop and drove off, his whole frame feeling lighter than when he’d arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> might switch to every other week updates since the whole thing is done now but idk what do yall think


	7. Forget My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The exasperation faded, and was replaced with something softer. More somber. More serious. Aston turned back to look at the road, fingers tapping against the steering wheel in a simple rhythm. “We’re going to make a stop,” he said decisively. “Before we go home, we’re going to make a stop. And we’re not going to speak until we arrive. Understood?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter is "Sunglasses At Night" by Corey Hart
> 
> probably gonna switch to uhhh HHH weekly updates just cause i cant keep track of which week im supposed to update lmao

It hadn’t taken long for Aston stopping by to become a regular occurrence. A week at most, and at this point Breakdown was more used to seeing him hanging around the shop for one reason or another. Be it regular maintenance on his beauty of a convertible or just coming by for the company.

The sound of heels on tile was starting to be a comfort at this point, and Breakdown looked up to give Aston a bright smile as the other walked in. “Hey there,” he said. “Usual?” The ‘usual’ was a full-frame wash buff, maybe a wax if Aston felt like it. And not that Breakdown was likely to admit it for fear of sounding like a creep and scaring the guy off, but he kind of liked getting his hands all over Aston’s cherry-red plating.

“Not quite.” He walked around the counter, looking Breakdown up and down, then gently smacked his shoulder. “Get up. We’re going out.”

“We--” He blanked. “What?”

“Actually, you need to dress nicer. I won’t have them thinking I spend my time around slobs. Not that you’re a slob of course, dear, you simply don’t wear clothes that speak of caring about one’s appearance.” Aston hummed, looking him over again. “I think I have a shirt about your size. That’s the important part, really. Wait there.” And he was gone just as quickly as he’d come in.

Breakdown was left staring dumbly after him. Which seemed to happen a lot, honestly. He was still in the same position when Aston returned a minute or two later, holding some scrap of pale blue fabric. “Put this on.” The fabric was tossed over his head.

He grabbed at the sudden obstruction, looking it over. It was a button up shirt, definitely a little too small, he could tell just by looking at it. “Um.”

“Well?”

“Right,” he stood up. “Okay. Just-- I’ll just be a minute.” And he headed into the back.

Changing clothes. That wasn’t ever something he really did. Sure he’d project a slightly different outfit every now and again, just to give the impression he owned more than one, but he never really _changed_ his physical clothes. He was able to wear them, but that first involved… taking _off_ the clothes he was wearing. 

He looked down at his holoform and frowned. The buttons would be a little tight, but it would _probably_ fit. Probably. He just hoped Aston didn’t get impatient and walk in while he was poking at his body to make it fit a bit better.

It was definitely too small. But managed to button it all the way, so it was good enough. Aston gave him an appraising look as he walked back out.

“Good enough,” he said, echoing Breakdown’s earlier thought. “Lock up-- I’ll be waiting in the car.” And he left once more. It spoke volumes about just how head over heels Breakdown was that he was just going along with this mysterious whatever-it-was without asking any questions. Or maybe it just spoke volumes about Breakdown’s obedience. 

He closed down the shop, being sure to turn the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ before leaving, and slid into the open passenger seat of Aston’s car. “So, um, where are we going?”

Aston looked over and gave him a sharp-toothed grin. “Racing.”

...What?

“Something wrong?”

“Sorry, did you-- racing??”

“Yes. Have a problem with that?” While it was said in Aston’s usual haughty tone, there was a hint of genuine concern behind it. Evidently he remembered what they’d spoken about the other night. The discomfort Breakdown had shown. “If it’s any comfort, you’re not going to be behind the wheel. We can do something else, though.”

“No,” he said carefully. “It’s fine. Just… don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.”

The sharp grin turned to something a bit kinder. “Just sit there and look tough, really. I’m not exactly known for making friends in these circuits, tend to make a lot more _enemies,_ and I want a little more muscle on my side this time around. Hopefully that’ll stop them from getting so pissy with me when I kick their asses.”

“You’re pretty confident you’re gonna win.”

Aston patted the dashboard, and the car’s engine rumbled. “Past experience. I’ve yet to lose since arriving here.”

Damn. He would’ve made a killing on Velocitron. “I’ll take your word for it.”

They drove through sunset and into the night, leaving Jasper far behind as they headed further into the desert. Eventually they pulled into another town several hours away. Most of the town’s lights were dark, it was late enough that basically everything was closed, but in the distance there was a dim glow coming from some secluded part of town. 

“Here we are.”

Aston turned off his high-beams as he pulled up next to the other cars idling on the road. Mostly muscle cars-- they all _looked_ a bit faster than Aston’s convertible. But Breakdown could hear their engines, loud and growling as they were, and none of them had quite the same punch that Aston’s seemed to pack. He’d have put his money on Aston in an instant if he’d been betting on the outcome of the race.

The human standing in front of the cars raised the little flag they held, and as soon as they brought it down there was the roaring of an engine and they were off like a shot.

Breakdown grabbed the edge of the door on instinct, eyes wide as Aston sped past the rest of his competitors. Aston must have turned the radio on, because after a few seconds of white noise a hard-hitting rock song began playing, adding to the chaos of everything else. 

They were going a bit too fast for Breakdown to want to try and hold conversation, and Aston seemed pretty focused on the road anyways, but they were sitting close enough that Breakdown could see the glint of eyes behind the sunglasses that Aston never took off. The rest of their surroundings seemed to fade. He stared for a solid minute, then Aston looked over and gave him a blinding smile.

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the screech of breaks as Aston pulled to a halt. They’d gotten back to the starting line. And, Breakdown proudly noted, there wasn’t a single other car there yet.

The human that had waved the flag to start the race came over, leaning on Aston’s door and striking up a conversation with him (as well as handing him a stack of cash, which Aston tucked into the glove box). Something about his model of car and where it was from. Breakdown wasn’t really paying attention; he was busy staring at Aston with what he was sure was unadulterated adoration.

Aston glanced over and gave him a smile. “So? What did you think?”

“That was--” He fell silent as there was once _again_ the screech of tires, then the simultaneous slamming of several doors as a handful of humans stalked towards them.

  
“Ah,” Aston said, “that would be our cue.”

He slammed on the gas fast enough to make the wheels spin aimlessly for a moment before they were off, peeling away from the humans. Breakdown watched them disappear in the rear view mirror.

Aston was laughing like a maniac as he sped away, leaving the furious racers in the dust of his pretty red car that went faster than they could ever hope to. Breakdown was once more gripping the edge of the door like a lifeline. He’d never driven this fast before in his _life._ Even on Velocitron, with their wide swaths of road and mentality entirely devoted towards _going fast,_ he’d been the slowest of the bunch. He’d never _won_ a race. Despite the adrenaline making his spark race, he was grinning just as much as the man in the seat beside him.

“I don’t think they like you very much!” He called over the combined cacophony of the radio blaring, the engine roaring, and the wind screaming past. 

“Oh, most certainly not,” Aston replied, looking away from the empty road to give Breakdown a toothy smile. “They can’t _stand_ being shown up by some newcomer. Such is the price of being the best-- it’s lonely at the top.”

He wanted to say something corny like _you don’t have to be alone_ or _mind if I join you up there?_ but the growl of the engine as Aston pressed the gas and changed gears and somehow went even _faster_ cut him off. He dug his nails into the upholstery. Then immediately loosened his grip once he realized what he was doing. Sentient metal or not, nails left indents in leather, and with how neurotic Aston was about keeping his vehicle spotless, Breakdown would hate to be responsible for any kind of damage. No matter how minor.

A moonbeam struck through the open roof, catching on Aston’s sunglasses and glinting off them as he grinned at Breakdown again. “So what did you think? Looking to join the racing circuit anytime soon?”

Breakdown laughed, somewhat awkwardly. “I don’t think so. Racing’s not really my, uh, speed. I prefer taking it slow, y’know?”

He could’ve sworn the expression on Aston’s face was a _pout._ “Not even with me?”

“Well… That’s different.”

That just got him a hum. Apparently he wasn’t as appalled by Breakdown wanting to slow down once in a while as he acted, because he eased off the gas a bit. Though they were still going faster than was probably “legal,” they were back within humanly accessible speed. No longer going fast enough that Breakdown felt like he was leaving pieces of himself behind.

“I did have fun tonight,” he said, and Aston looked at him again, and he wasn’t even going to try and decipher what expression that was supposed to be. “So, uh, thank you. For bringing me along.”

A beat of silence. Then; “you’re quite welcome.”

The song on the radio switched to something gentler, calmer, crooning about coasts and telephone operators or something. Aston calmed with it, and they slowed further, until they _were_ actually going the speed limit. He looked more relaxed than Breakdown had seen him in all the time they’d known each other. Cast in nothing but the reflecting light of his low beams and silver moonlight, Breakdown was pretty sure he was starting to understand what all those romantic films and novellas were talking about with all their prose.

“I think I might be in love with you.”

He belatedly realized that had been said out loud, where Aston could definitely hear, when the car suddenly swerved and the other man cursed as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. The radio crackled once.

“Wh--”

“You can’t just _say things_ like that!” Aston gave him an exasperated look. “I’m trying to _drive.”_

“I, uh.” Breakdown pressed himself into the leather of the seat, briefly contemplating literally phasing into it to save himself the embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

The exasperation faded, and was replaced with something softer. More somber. More _serious._ Aston turned back to look at the road, fingers tapping against the steering wheel in a simple rhythm. “We’re going to make a stop,” he said decisively. “Before we go home, we’re going to make a stop. And we’re not going to speak until we arrive. Understood?”

Not sure if the ‘no talking’ thing was already in effect, Breakdown simply nodded. Aston returned the nod. For what was probably half an hour (maybe forty five minutes, if he was generous) they simply sat in silence, the only noises being the tires on the asphalt and the radio crackling with white noise.

Eventually Aston turned off the road, smoothe asphalt turning to coarse dirt under the wheels, and eventually pulled out onto an incline. He put the car into park, climbed out, and walked over to stand in front of it at the edge of the clearing. Breakdown followed.

Spread out before them was a whole lot of blue-lit desert, and in the middle of it all, a little cluster of lights.

“Is that--”

“Jasper,” Aston said with a nod. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it? Seeing it all laid out like that? Being there, you know quite well that it’s the only thing for many, many miles. But it’s different being able to look and see just how distant it is from the rest of the world. Our own little corner of paradise, hm?” He gave a dry laugh.

They were skirting around the issue. Breakdown was fidgeting with the sleeves of his too-small shirt. “Aston, look,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

Aston glanced over at him. Then he reached up and--

He reached up and he took his sunglasses off.

_He took his sunglasses off._

And he looked over at Breakdown with eyes that looked too red to be brown but too brown to be red, glinting in the moonlight, and Breakdown could see sharp intelligence under several layers of eyeliner. He found himself briefly wondering why Aston would wear eye makeup if he kept his glasses on all the time. Then he quickly waved that thought away with the reminder that this was a serious conversation they were having. His inane questions about Aston’s makeup choices could wait.

Aston stared at him with a gaze sharp enough to cut steel, and he poked Breakdown’s chest with the folded corner of his glasses. “Don’t apologize,” he said. “Don’t you _ever_ apologize for what you feel.”

“But I-- You don’t--”

“What, feel the same?” He scoffed. “You clearly aren’t able to read me as well as you believe you are if you think that’s the case.”

Breakdown’s processor stuttered to a halt. He looked at Aston blankly, realizing suddenly that he found himself stumped by the man’s expressions a lot more often than he understood what they meant. How many times had it been adoration he’d seen in that smile? How many times had it been _love_? How much time had they missed because Breakdown was oblivious?

“Oh,” he said, and Aston rolled his eyes and looked at Breakdown with so much fondness that it was hard to believe he’d never noticed it before. “ _Oh.”_

“‘Oh’ indeed,” Aston said. He tucked his glasses into the pocket of his coat. “Now are you just going to stand there looking like a dying fish with your mouth open or are you going to do something about this newfound revelation and come over here and kiss me?”

Kiss him. Aston wanted Breakdown to kiss him. 

Breakdown… kind of short-circuited.

He came back to awareness with Aston standing in front of him, patting his cheek gently. “Hello? Earth to Blake? Is anyone awake in there?”

“Um,” he said, eloquently. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Aston gave him a disbelieving look, one that slowly morphed into shock as he realized Breakdown was being entirely serious. “Never?” Breakdown shook his head. “Not once?” Another head shake. Aston blinked at him a couple times, red/brown/orange(? It was hard to tell with the yellow tint his headlights were giving everything) eyes wide. “Really,” he said, “I’m surprised.”

“...Why?”

“Because you’re such a _looker,_ Blake. Really. Not quite as handsome as me, but for those that like the burly, rugged types?” The pointed nails of the hand not still cupping Breakdown’s face trailed down his chest then moved back up to curl over his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but shiver. “Well, let’s just say if I’d known you were genuinely interested, I’d have dragged you out late long before now.”

“...Really?”

Aston gave him an amused look. “Really.”

He’d… never considered himself nice to look at. Sure, sometimes people would lean over the counter a little closer than he thought was proper, but he was comparing a few years of flirty looks from organics to millennia of scorn from the other mechs he’d spent most of his time around. He was big, bulky, heavy, _slow._ Not at all adhering to the beauty standards of the typical Velocitronian populous. On Cybertron it was a little better, but he was just so _plain,_ folks rarely gave him a second glance.

He blinked and Aston was still standing in front of him, though somehow even closer than before, one hand on his shoulder and the other cupping his cheek. He leaned forward, and Breakdown saw his eyes flash red, and then there was a pair of soft lips pressed against his own.

(Back in Jasper, in a silent scrapyard, there was the sudden sound of a car engine revving.)

It was certainly weird, kissing through a holoform, because in his mind he knew it was really just a very convincing projection but everything felt so _real_ that it was hard to convince the rest of him that this technically wasn’t happening. 

He blinked a few moments later, realizing that at some point Aston had pushed him back far enough to have him halfway seated on the hood of the car. The vehicle was warm, engine purring beneath him, and the flush on his cheeks darkened. He must’ve looked silly, because Aston pulled away and looked at him and then burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh,” he said. “But you look like you’ve just walked in on a saint’s changing room.”

The metaphor was kind of lost on him, but he could get that the general meaning was ‘very, very embarrassed,’ and that only made him blush more. He was surprised his holoform wasn’t starting to glitch with how overheated he was.

Aston hummed, tracing the pointed edge of a nail over Breakdown’s cheek. “Gorgeous,” he said, voice sultry and low.

“Um.” Breakdown glanced down at his hands which had, of their own volition, grabbed Aston’s hips and held tight. He felt like he could’ve gone on some eloquent tangent about how nice Aston looked and how good all of this was, but then he met Aston’s eyes and any semblance of an extended vocabulary jumped from the metaphorical window of Breakdown’s mind and, thickly, he asked; “can I kiss you again?”

There was a muted shiver under his fingertips, and Aston leaned closer, pressing himself right up against Breakdown’s chest. _“Please.”_

He doubted he could’ve denied that voice if he wanted to. So it was good that denial was the last thing on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the art is really old cause i drew it back when i was actively writing this chapter but i thought i might as well include it anyways lol


	8. Must be a Limousine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usually, when night fell, Knock Out would park near a motel and dismiss his holoform when he recharged. That way people would assume he was staying in one of the rooms. On the rare occasions he did actually sleep in his holoform, it was almost always next to someone.
> 
> So waking up in bed beside someone was old news. Waking up in bed and staying, however, was far from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these next few chapters are halfway filler and im not a huge fan of them but its whatever. gay people. song for this chapter is "Little Red Corvette" by Prince because this is set in the 80s and its about car robots so duh. no i do not understand the hidden meanings in songs.

Usually, when night fell, Knock Out would park near a motel and dismiss his holoform when he recharged. That way people would assume he was staying in one of the rooms. On the rare occasions he did actually sleep in his holoform, it was almost always next to someone.

So waking up in bed beside someone was old news. Waking up in bed and  _ staying, _ however, was far from it.

He looked over at the man dozing next to him. Back when he first arrived on this mudball, he had never thought he would end up finding humans attractive. Then again, he wasn’t really finding humans in  _ general _ attractive. Just Blake. Who, really, was Knock Out’s entire type. Big and brawny, acted a lot smaller than he was, kindhearted and terribly obedient. The sort that looked like he could snap Knock Out in two but would likely kill himself before he did such a thing. It was dreadfully appealing.

Falling for a human aside, none of the recent weeks had gone according to any semblance of a plan he’d had. Jasper had just been the nearest town when he’d gotten into trouble. He’d never intended to stay as long as he had. Although, the urge to keep moving that had him living a nomadic lifestyle before now didn’t seem to be as prevalent anymore.

He glanced at Blake again, unable to stop himself from smiling. Perhaps he’d just found something worth sticking around for.

Blake mumbled something in his sleep, expression pinching, and he shifted slightly. A clear indication of him starting to wake up. Knock Out had spent enough mornings in someone else’s bed to be able to recognize that. He reached over, trailing gentle digits down Blake’s back. “Good morning, sweetspark,” he whispered.

A pleased noise. After a minute or two, Blake stirred again, pushing himself and squinting at Knock Out blearily. “Wh’huh?” 

Oh, he was adorable when he was just waking up. Moving his hand from Blake’s back to cup his cheek, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. That got another pleased noise from the man and he managed to extract his hands from the tangled blanket enough to reach over and grab Knock Out by the waist, pulling him close. Knock Out laughed softly. “Awake yet?”

“Uhuh. Gimme a minute.”

He buried his fingers in Blake’s hair, combing through the loose strands. He really ought to wear it down more often. “Alright, one minute. We can’t just lay about here all day.”

“Mm… Can’t we?”

A fond eye-roll. “No. You have a shop to open, and I’ll lose my mind if I can’t get up and move.”

“Shop can wait. Can move here.” His hand twitched from Knock Out’s waist to trace down his thigh, and Knock Out was left giggling as he shoved the appendage away. He knew exactly what Blake was talking about, and while the idea was halfway appealing, that wasn’t the kind of ‘movement’ he was after.

“Absolutely not,” he said, only half-joking with the rebuttal. “Was last night not enough for you? Insatiable.”

“You’re just pretty.”

Knock Out hummed. “I am. But I’m also not the sort to sleep late. Can I use your shower?”

“Mmmhm.”

“Thank you, dear.”

He pressed one more kiss to Blake’s cheek before getting up, stretching a bit, and sighing as he headed through the dimly lit house towards where he was pretty sure the bathroom was. Technically he could just snap his fingers and be clean as a whistle, but he has appearances to keep. Plus there was a certain satisfaction in taking the time to actually use soap and conditioner and whatnot. Like getting his frame waxed. Sure, there were faster ways, but the longer ones just felt nice.

Blake didn’t have near the selection of soaps some of his other companions had in the past, but he also didn’t have one of those horrible ‘five-in-one’ soaps that Knock Out thought were quite possibly the worst thing created by humanity, so he wasn’t a total loss. By the end of it Knock Out was left feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.

And the conversation. As previously mentioned, he wasn’t used to sticking around after one of these little trysts. He didn’t actually sleep most of the time, either; just pretended to until the  _ other _ fell asleep and he could take his leave. But he didn’t want to leave Blake so quickly, and he didn’t want to leave him waking up to an empty bed, especially because he wasn’t planning on leaving Jasper any time soon and that would be a  _ really _ awkward conversation if they were to have it later. Or somewhere public. At least now it was only  _ mildly _ awkward.

He returned to find Blake rifling through his dresser, making a pinched expression. He just stood there and watched the man for a few moments. Somehow, every little thing he did managed to make him seem all the more endearing.

Like when he looked up at Knock Out and caught his eye and gave him a sunny grin. It was  _ adorable. _

“Hey, you,” he said. “Morning.”

“Yes, good morning. You lazy lump. Got anything nice to wear?”

Blake made a low noise, looking back towards the dresser. “Not really. I don’t dress… ‘nice.’ That’s more your job.”

“Can you do not-stained?”

A snort. “Yeah, I can manage that.”

“Good enough.”

A handful of minutes and one almost-stumble later, they were both dressed, and Blake stepped around the bed to pull Knock Out into a hug. He buried his face in his shoulder. Knock Out rolled his eyes, but lifted his arms to return the embrace anyways.

  
There was a whisper. Too quiet to hear. 

“What was that?”

He felt more than saw Blake flush. “I said um,” he cleared his throat, “don’t go.”

Oh. Wasn’t that sweet. Some part of Knock Out, the part that hadn’t stayed in one place for over a year, didn’t want to make any promises. He was a nomad at spark, especially in a place he was so unfamiliar with like Earth. But another part, the part that dreaded the thought of ever leaving Blake’s side, wanted to swear he’d never even leave the room without the other. Both were a little too dramatic for right now.

“I won’t,” he simply said instead. “I’m staying right here.”

Blake gave a pleased hum and held him a bit tighter. Then his hold relaxed slightly, just enough so he could lean back and press several kisses to Knock Out’s face. Knock Out was left laughing and pretending to shove him away.

“So, um,” Blake said, stopping the onslaught of affection and giving Knock Out a nervous look. Oh, serious conversation time. He could tell by the change in tone and expression. “Did you want to… try something? With me?”

“And by ‘something’ you mean…”

Blake flushed again, the darkness of his cheeks making him all the nicer to look at. “I mean a relationship. Proper one. I’ve kind of been meaning to ask for a while, but, uh, never really got the courage to.”

A proper relationship, hm? Knock Out hadn’t given one of those a shot since… well, since a very long time ago. There were a lot of things that came with making something official. Honesty was a big one. There was the simple fact that Knock Out wasn’t really who he said he was, and that in truth they were two  _ very _ different species, compatible only in the most basic of ways. Knock Out would live for much longer. And while he wasn’t exactly expecting this “thing” to last  _ quite _ long enough for that to be important… it was still worth noting. 

Despite all his concerns, despite the striking differences between them, he found himself wanting to say yes. He liked Blake. A lot. More than he’d liked anyone in a very long time. His spark raced every time the man so much as smiled at him-- not in a bad way, either. 

“Alright,” he said, briefly surprising himself. “We can give ‘us’ a try.”

If he was to be honest, the smile Blake gave him was worth every hardship he’d faced until now.


	9. Are You the Answer?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aston hadn’t been inclined to leave, and Breakdown hadn’t been inclined to make him leave, so he stayed right where he was. He sat with his legs against the arm of the sofa, alternating between reading over Breakdown’s shoulder and flipping absent-mindedly through channels on the television. Nothing seemed to pique his interest.
> 
> He sighed, and a moment later Breakdown’s view of the book in his hands was obscured by a lapful of pouting boyfriend. “I’m bored,” Aston said.
> 
> Eh, he wasn’t really reading anyways. He tossed the book aside and moved his arms to wrap around Aston’s waist. “A true tragedy,” he said with a smile. “What could we possibly do t’ amend this situation?”
> 
> A hum. “Wanna go for a drive?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapters kinda ~whatever~ lol. gay filler. song is "take me home tonight" by eddie money

Laying around all day had never been so fun.

Normally Breakdown had this strut-deep need to be moving almost constantly. That was part of why he picked up the work he did. Not only because he was good at it, but because it let him be on his feet and keeping active all day. Kept him busy. If he sat around too long, he’d start getting bored, and eventually restless, and if it got bad enough he’d feel like he had to break something just to calm down. And that wasn’t fun, even if he had a lot of junk lying around to destroy. 

Now he was sprawled out on the sofa, a book in his hands, and he wasn’t much inclined to move.

And Aston was there. Curled up on the sofa next to him.

Aston hadn’t been inclined to leave, and Breakdown hadn’t been inclined to make him leave, so he stayed right where he was. He sat with his legs against the arm of the sofa, alternating between reading over Breakdown’s shoulder and flipping absent-mindedly through channels on the television. Nothing seemed to pique his interest.

He sighed, and a moment later Breakdown’s view of the book in his hands was obscured by a lapful of pouting boyfriend. “I’m bored,” Aston said.

Eh, he wasn’t really reading anyways. He tossed the book aside and moved his arms to wrap around Aston’s waist. “A true tragedy,” he said with a smile. “What could we possibly do t’ amend this situation?”

A hum. “Wanna go for a drive?”

Breakdown hoped Aston couldn’t tell how much the idea appealed to him. “Alright,” he said, “but I’m taking my car.”

“What, you don’t like my driving?” 

“Maybe I just wanna go slow for a change. You can’t drive below sixty.”

There was an offended scoff, as though it was absurd of Breakdown to insinuate there was anything Aston couldn’t do, but it distracted him well enough. The real reason Breakdown wanted to drive himself wouldn’t make much sense. Aston would think he was crazy if he said it was because he wanted to pretend like Aston was more like him. Like they were driving  _ together _ in the way only Cybertronians could. 

“Fine,” Aston eventually conceded, and though he sounded annoyed, he was smiling. “We’ll go separately. I’ll meet you out front.”

He does finally get up, but only after tugging Breakdown into a kiss that made him reconsider actually getting up and going anywhere. But then he pulled away, gave Breakdown an inviting grin, and headed towards the apartment door, grabbing his coat along the way.

Left struggling to compose himself, Breakdown got up, cursing under his breath. Damn that greedy boyfriend of his.

_ Boyfriend. _ The word still sent a giddy rev through Breakdown’s systems. It wasn’t quite as meaningful as conjunx (or “husband,” he supposed) but that would be moving a little fast. Even by human standards.

He realized after climbing into his alt and adjusting to the feeling of being in control of his frame again that he didn’t actually have to  _ walk _ to where he’d parked. He could totally have just dismissed his holoform and brought it back up inside his chassis. He’d… not quite forgotten, really, but the thought just hadn’t occurred to him.

_ Dear Primus, _ he heard a mockery of Dead End’s voice in the back of his mind,  _ he’s gone native. _

Pulling out of the garage and onto the street, he tried to tell himself  _ no, I haven’t. _ Then he realized he was actually pressing on his gas pedal and was physically turning his steering wheel. As though he was actually  _ driving a car. _ Rather than just… driving himself.   
  


This was confusing. And he’d totally gone native.

There was the honk of a horn, and he rolled his window down and leaned out. Aston had his top down and was grinning up at Breakdown. There wasn’t that much height difference between them, but enough that he had to lean over the edge of his window.

“Hey there,” he said, “fancy a drive?”

Aston’s grin widened, and with a rev of that powerful engine, he peeled away down the road. Breakdown laughed to himself as he sped to catch up. 

“What’s the rush?” He called over the wind as he pulled up next to Aston, meeting the other’s speed. He was projecting his voice through his alt, just enough that he could actually be heard. Not enough to make Aston wonder just how he was able to talk that loud. “Got somewhere important to be? You really oughta learn to relax, take it easy, just enjoy the ride.”

“Dear, I’ve never gone slow in my life, and I don’t plan to start now.” 

A pout. “Not even for me?” He could easily remember Aston pulling the same expression and phrase.

Several moments with no response passed. Then still without saying a word, Aston eased on his break and brought them down to a more easygoing speed.

Breakdown leaned out the window and grinned cheekily at him. Barely hidden behind the sunglasses, he rolled his eyes.

They drove next to each other in silence for a while. Mostly a straight shot, though every now and then Aston would speed up just enough to weave around Breakdown before slowing back down and returning to his side. Even though he was willing to go slow for Breakdown’s sake, it was clear he was antsy to speed up a bit.

“Hey,” Breakdown called, leaning out the window again. “If you wanna joyride for a little while, you can go ahead.”

Aston pursed his lips. “I don’t want to leave you behind. I know going fast isn’t your forte.”

“Nah, but it is yours.” He shrugged, leaning back in his seat and idly pressing his knee against the steering wheel to look like he was actively driving. “Go on. Just drive as fast as you’d like. I’ll catch up eventually.”

“...You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He gave Breakdown a grateful look, and was off in seconds with a click of changing gears and roar of his engine. His shiny red chassis disappeared in a cloud of dust, and Breakdown saw the sun glinting off the plating in the distance as he pushed his convertible to its limits. From this far away, he could hardly even see Aston sitting in the driver’s seat. It was, despite the situation, almost a comfort.

Smiling to himself, knowing he probably looked like a lovestruck idiot, Breakdown took his time in catching up. 

He knew Aston would wait for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what, you came here for plot? HAH.


	10. City Lights and Business Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was only so much one could do in a town as small as Jasper before you had to start repeating activities. And, as fond as Knock Out was of the company, he had little love for the town itself. Which wasn't to say he hated it, not in the slightest. It was just so… dull. Something Knock Out did his level best to avoid associating with. The quaint "friendly desert town" aesthetic may have suited Blake just fine, but Knock Out needed a little more flare in his life.
> 
> So they were going to a city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas/blessed yule/happy late hanukkah/happy [insert holiday here] 
> 
> i was gonna have a proper christmas-y oneshot for this 'verse but a) i didnt actually finish the oneshot and b) it takes place post-story and given the story's not fully posted yet. Yknow. so instead just have an early chapter. maybe ill post the oneshot next christmas or something idk. (still gonna post the next chapter on tuesday)
> 
> song for this chapter is "Smooth Operator" by Sade and its one of my favorite songs just in general.

There was only so much one could do in a town as small as Jasper before you had to start repeating activities. And, as fond as Knock Out was of the company, he had little love for the town itself. Which wasn't to say he  _ hated _ it, not in the slightest. It was just so… dull. Something Knock Out did his level best to avoid associating with. The quaint "friendly desert town" aesthetic may have suited Blake just fine, but Knock Out needed a little more  _ flare _ in his life.

So they were going to a city. It was about an hour's drive, and Knock Out opted to have them ride together this time around. For one, he kind of liked having Blake all up in his interior, as weird as it may have sounded. For another, he was just a good bit faster than Blake. He didn't hold it against the man, everyone had their taste, he just preferred keeping above seventy whenever he was able.

It was mostly a straight shot as empty desert turned to charming suburbs turned to bustling city, already rich with nightlife. People in groups or pairs strolled along the sidewalks. Loud music was playing somewhere in the distance.

Blake looked… uncomfortable.

Knock Out looked over at him as they idled at a stop light, flicking his sunglasses up. "Hey," he said, and Blake nearly jumped as he looked over. "Is this alright? We can go elsewhere if it's too much."

Pausing for a moment, Blake shook his head. "It's just been a while since I've been around so many folks. I'll be okay."

Only mildly convinced, Knock Out still let the issue go, turning his attention back to the road as the light turned green. He hummed as he scanned the buildings they passed; he'd long-since learned how to identify the best spots in these kinds of places. Usually tucked away in back corners or basements, identified only by their subtly placed neon signs or crowds moving in and out, they were loud and crowded and would probably make most high-class Vosians overclock on the spot. Knock Out  _ loved _ them.

_ There. _ A pink and blue neon sign that he couldn’t actually read the name of thanks to the curling font it was written in.

He parked himself in the first empty spot he could find. It was probably legal. He rolled his hood up and locked his doors as he stepped out, but thievery was the least of his worries. Anyone who tried to break in would be getting a nasty surprise. Probably in the form of a large saw blade to the face.

Yes, he  _ would  _ actually break his cover to keep unwelcome hands off his frame.

Blake made sure to lock his door as well, and came to stand at Knock Out’s shoulder as they walked towards the sign he’d seen. It sent a pleasant feeling through Knock out’s spark, having a warm presence at his side. It made him feel safe. A welcome change from the leeriness he usually felt, walking through the streets of big cities like this alone. Having someone who he could count on to watch his back. Who  _ wanted _ to keep him safe.

He would’ve gotten a boyfriend far sooner if he knew this was what it was going to be like. Then again, no one had ever appealed to him in the same way Blake had.

Speaking of. The man didn’t seem to know quite what to do with himself as they made their way through the crowded streets. He was wary of his own bulk, sticking close to Knock Out in an effort to avoid bumping anyone’s shoulders. It was as endearing as it was a little pitiful. 

Regardless, Knock Out didn’t revel in his discomfort. “If you’re not comfortable, we can go. Do something a little less social.”

“No, it’s… fine. I’m adaptable. Just gotta… gimme a little while t’ get used to it.”

“First time in a city?”

He shrugged. “Not really, but I haven’t left Jasper since I got there.”

“Well, if you need to go at any time, just let me know and we’ll make our escape.” He wanted them to have  _ fun _ tonight. Both of them. It wasn’t a good time if only one of them was enjoying it. Knock Out had spent time with plenty of  _ those _ kinds of mechs (re: selfish) and he wasn’t looking to turn into one of them any time soon.

Silently, he reached over and slipped his hand into Blake’s. The man gave him a grateful look, obvious tension in his posture fading. 

This place was out of the way enough that the bouncer at the base of the stairs didn’t bother asking to see any ID before waving them inside, which was good because Knock Out didn’t actually  _ have _ a physical ID. On the rare occasion he got caught and pulled over he was able to just project one from his vehicle mode. It was enough to fool the cops. He hadn’t quite figured out how to make it at a distance, not like his holoform proper.

The club itself was dimly lit, with lights in a variety of colors placed along the ceiling and the outer edges of the room. They weren’t flashing, which Knock Out was grateful for, though they pulsed rhythmically along with the beat of the music. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Blake looking around with wide-eyes. He looked completely out of his element. Though, not entirely averse to being there, Knock Out happily took note of.

“Well?”

“It’s… loud,” he said after a moment. “And-- stars, there’s a lot goin’ on.”

“Too much?”

He silently shook his head. Had Blake ever even been to a place like this? Doubtful. He didn’t seem the sort to seek this sort of thing out.

“So, um, what are you supposed to do here?”

“Well, folks come to these kinds of places for a lot of reasons,” Knock Out explained as he tugged on Blake’s hand to get him to follow and led him across the club towards the main floor. “They serve alcohol, if you’re into that. Some come looking for a quick hook-up. It’s a popular place for outings among friends. The main attraction is the dancing, though.”

The flush on Blake’s cheeks was visible even in the darkness of the club. “I… don’t really dance.”

Knock Out stopped once he’d found them a clear-ish spot on the floor, then turned to Blake and pouted. “Well, I know  _ that’s _ not true. What about that night where we shared our tragic backstories? You seemed plenty keen on dancing then.” 

“Well,” Blake said, “that’s different. That was just us. There’s… people here, though. An’ they’re… looking. I don’t really like folks, uh, lookin’ at me.”

Expression softening, Knock Out tightened his hold on Blake’s hand and curled the other one around his partner’s hip. “They’re hardly paying us any mind,” he said, loud enough to be heard over the music but quiet enough that it was still for Blake’s ears only. “Pretend they’re not even there. Close your eyes. It’s just you and me here.”

He tugged Blake a bit closer and set his head against his shoulder, waiting until he felt Blake’s head rest on top of his own before starting to lead their movements. It was nothing quite as energetic or…  _ tactile _ as the sort of thing the other patrons favored, but Blake seemed comfortable with it. Which was important, really. Maybe Knock Out could convince him to try something a bit less chaste later. (Or maybe he wouldn’t, and that was fine too!)

“We could’a done this at home,” Blake mumbled, only audible thanks to their proximity.

“Perhaps. And we can go home if you want. I thought a bit of a chance of scenery might be nice is all.” 

“It  _ is _ kinda neat,” Blake admitted after a moment. “The lights are pretty cool. And there’s something kinda…” He shrugged. “Communal? About it? Like, everyone’s here for the same handful of reasons. That’s pretty neat.”

That was pretty close to the reason Knock Out liked these sort of venues so much. “Exactly,” he said. “What’s the word, it’s--  _ solidarity, _ that’s it. Freeing, almost.”

He looked up in time to see Blake grinning. “Guess I could get used to it.”

There was still an amount of uncertainty in his expression, and Knock Out could see it, but the fact that he was still willing to give something a try despite his apprehension simply because it was important to Knock Out meant a great deal.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

Knock Out shrugged, pulling Blake’s hand up and adding a bit more energy to their back and forth movements. “Being you.”

“That’s cheesy as hell, Aston.”

  
Laughter came easily.

They danced for a bit longer, through a couple more songs. Knock Out managed to convince Blake to loosen up two songs into it and by the end he was right at home among the other moving bodies on the dance floor. Knock Out almost ( _ almost _ ) pulled him into a kiss right then and there, but that would  _ definitely  _ draw attention to them. Baby steps, or whatever the phrase was.

After that handful of songs had passed, Knock Out would have kept them out there longer, but the fatigue in the way Blake held himself was starting to get obvious. The club’s lighting made it hard to tell, but he definitely looked paler, and there was a dim look to his eyes.

“Let’s take a break, shall we?” After he got a nod from Blake, he worked on maneuvering them out of the crowded dance floor and over to a cluster of tables off to the side. Blake sat down heavily, while Knock Out stood at his side fretting for a moment. Scrap, what did humans need when they got sick? Water?? “Do you want me to get you some water?”

Blake waved a dismissive hand. “I’m okay,” he said, and his tone was definitely more tired than earlier. “Just been awhile since I’ve been this far away from home. Need a minute.”

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” Knock Out pulled one of the chairs over and sat down next to him. His processor helpfully reminded him that they were out of the crowds now, and definitely out of range of anyone paying attention, so he took the chance to lean over and press a kiss to Blake’s cheek. He went to repeat the motion, but Blake turned his head at the last second, catching Knock Out’s lips against his own. Knock Out made a pleased hum.

He leaned the slightest bit closer, and Blake reached up to gently take hold of his chin and tilt his head at a better angle. Knock Out promptly decided they were definitely not close enough, and with little fanfare moved from sitting in his own chair to straddling Blake’s lap.

“Um,” Blake said, the motion jolting him enough to catch him up with what was going on. “We’re in public.”

“I know that,” Knock Out said, more of a purr than proper words. “No one’s looking.”

“That’s, um--” 

He eased back. “Still too much?”

“Yeah.” Blake sounded apologetic. That just wouldn’t do.

“That’s perfectly alright,” Knock Out said. “Don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Do you want me to move?” Hands settled firm around his hips. Knock Out stifled a laugh. “I take it that’s a ‘no’?”

“No, I like you there.” Pause. “Actually, can you, um,” he carefully took hold of one of Knock Out’s legs to haul it around and settle it so he was seated sideways on Blake’s lap. “There.”

Knock Out hummed. “I quite like me here too.” He wrapped his arms around Blake’s shoulders, leaning close and tucking his head in the crook of his partner’s neck. Blake happily reciprocated with a tight hold of his own.

As the night went on with them really just sitting there, Knock Out was practically purring, wrapped in a pair of strong arms with nice music playing on in the background.

  
Yes, he could  _ definitely _ get used to this.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, you’re my ride home.”

He laughed softly. “I’m not. Simply enjoying the view.” He tilted his head up to look at Blake, almost positive there was a silly little smile on his face. An expression that just screamed “lovestruck.” Ridiculous. “It’s a nice view.”

Blake grinned, and Knock Out saw the affection he was feeling reflected back at him. “Yeah, I got a pretty nice view, too.”

“Flatterer.”

“Hey, I’m just speakin’ the truth!” Blake planted a quick kiss on his forehead. “Seriously, though, mind if we head home? Th’ sound and people and stuff are getting to be a bit much for me.” He didn’t sound near as apologetic as he had earlier. Good. He should never feel sorry for establishing boundaries. Not with anyone, but especially not with Knock Out.

“Of course.” He paused for a moment just to turn on his heating, didn’t want his interior to be freezing cold when they got back, then got to his feet and stretched for effect. Blake took his hand again as they headed for the exit.

The night was ever-so-slightly darker than when they entered, and definitely chillier. Enough that Knock Out could actually feel the chill. Apparently Blake was just that perceptive and noticed his minute shiver, because he pulled his hand away to wrap an arm around Knock Out’s shoulders and draw him closer, letting his own heat warm Knock Out. He gave his partner a grateful look.

“So, did you have fun?” he asked, voice soft in the quiet of the near-empty street, so distinct after the bustling loudness of the club.

Blake was silent for a few moments. Then; “Y’know? I think I did. It was kinda weird, and I don’t know if I’m really gonna wanna do that kinda thing very often, but I had fun tonight. Thanks for bringing us out here.”

“Of course, dear. Thank you for giving it a chance.”

The rest of the way back to where he’d parked himself was spent in silence, as was the majority of the drive home. He was pretty sure Blake might’ve fallen asleep at one point on their way there. Nighttime in the desert meant a lot of unrelenting darkness, and it came as a surprisingly stark relief when he spotted the sign that indicated they were back in Jasper. When had the small town started feeling so much like home?

He glanced over at the man dozing in the opposite seat. 

Well. There was his answer.

He stopped on the street outside Blake’s shop, leaning over the center console to gently shake his partner awake. “We’re here.”

Blake sat up quick enough that Knock Out had to wonder if he’d actually been fully asleep at all, but he didn’t bother asking as his partner extracted himself from his interior. He was about to drive off and find somewhere to park when Blake’s hand settling on his doorframe made him pause.

“We’re not very much in public anymore,” Blake said, grinning. “You wanna stay the night?”

It was pretty clear what he meant by that.

Knock Out grinned back. 

“My dear, I would be  _ happy _ to.”


	11. Caught Up in Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So,” June said, plopping down in one of the waiting room chairs. “What had you so distracted when we walked in?”
> 
> Breakdown immediately went warm, and he was sure his cheeks had darkened. Like they always did when he thought about the reason for his recent good mood. “Ah. Well. It’s… you remember the guy in the red convertible?”
> 
> “The guy you were head-over-heels for after two weeks of knowing him? Yeah, I remember.”
> 
> He frowned at her. She looked utterly remorseless. “Well, we’ve kind of been, uh. Seeing each other. Officially.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter is "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper just cause of the vibes. not much else to say on todays chapter except enjoy some mlm/wlw solidarity with bonus Son Boy.

Breakdown wasn’t sure he’d felt this kind of sheer unbridled happiness… well, ever. He hadn’t exactly had a whole lot of close friends back on Cybertron (or Velocitron, for that matter), nor had he ever found anything all that satisfying to do with his life. Yet somehow here, on this little mudball in the middle of nowhere, he’d found a purpose. And it was, apparently, making a fool of himself to make Aston laugh.

He didn’t mind it nearly as much as he pretended to, and Aston knew it. He knew that if Breakdown really wanted him to stop he’d make it clear. He also knew the kinds of things  _ not  _ to say. He never teased Breakdown for his size and how much it didn’t match his personality. He never teased Breakdown for his occasional stutter or nervousness. He never teased him for being  _ slow. _ Which was the important part, really. Aston was fast-- he drove fast, he talked fast, nothing about him indicated ‘slow’ in any way, shape, or form. But for Breakdown? He’d go slow. He never made it a big deal.

“Blake.”

He wasn’t like any mech Breakdown had ever known. Which made sense, really, considering he wasn’t one. Maybe that was the kicker, the reasoning behind it. Humans lived such short lifespans. They had to learn to adapt, they had to be able to change their views so they didn’t get stuck in one rut for their whole existences. So maybe it was that deadline that made them so much… better? Nicer to be around? So accepting? Any number of words would work.

“Mr. Downey?”

Except it wasn’t ‘humans’ in general, was it? No, just Aston. His affection for the guy was coloring his perception of humans in general, and wasn’t  _ that _ something? That loving one individual could make an entire species seem more appealing. Especially considering he’d thought of them as tolerable at best. With a few notable exceptions, of course, like--

Oh, scrap.

“Blake!”

“Sorry!” He started, blinking at June (who had her hands on her hips) a couple times. “Sorry. Um-- how long have you been standing there?”

“Like, ten minutes, sir.”

That wasn’t June. He leaned forward a bit, peering over the counter, and met the gaze of a scrawny little thing with a tote bag clutched to his chest. “Hey, Jack,” he said, tone gentle, “sorry again. Got a little lost in thought.”

June rolled her eyes, but there was enough fondness in the gesture that Breakdown wasn’t too worried that he’d actually offended them. What was he, a newspark? He had a job to do. Even if he didn’t really need to do it, he’d made it clear he was willing to, and it was bad for his image if he got so distracted during his active hours that he ignored customers. Not that he thought June would do something so petty like publicly badmouth him, though.

“What’re you folks here for?”

“Mm…” Jack glanced up at June. She gave him an encouraging nod. He trotted a few steps forward so he could actually reach the counter, and got up on the tips of his toes to hand over the tote bag. “My game’s broken. I knocked it off the table an’ now it’s not working.”

Breakdown pulled the console out of the bag. There was nothing explicitly broken, but it made an ominous rattling noise when he picked it up, which was usually a pretty good indication that there was an issue. “Let’s take a look,” he said, flipping it upside down and grabbing a screwdriver from beneath the counter. “You wanna watch?”

Jack nodded, and June wrapped her arms around his middle to haul him up and set him down on the edge of the counter. The young boy watched with wide eyes as Breakdown finished with the screws and pulled off the back cover. “Ah-- here’s the issue,” he said, pointing with the end of his screwdriver. “The cable here isn’t stuck to the motherboard, so when you knocked it off the table, the cable came loose. It’s an easy fix.”

He probably wanted to clean out the inside, too. There was quite a lot of dust built up.

“So,” June said, plopping down in one of the waiting room chairs. “What had you so distracted when we walked in?”

Breakdown immediately went warm, and he was sure his cheeks had darkened. Like they always did when he thought about the reason for his recent good mood. “Ah. Well. It’s… you remember the guy in the red convertible?”

“The guy you were head-over-heels for after two weeks of knowing him? Yeah, I remember.”

He frowned at her. She looked utterly remorseless. “Well, we’ve kind of been, uh. Seeing each other. Officially.”

“Romantically?”

“Romantically.”

June clapped her hands together. “Congratulations! Did you ask him like I said you should?”

“Ah…” He grinned sheepishly. “Not really. I was gonna, but I chickened out. Kinda ended up admitting I was in love with him after we went on a drive. We talked things out. Drove home. He stayed the night.”

June raised an eyebrow. “Stayed the night, did he?”

She definitely knew. “Oh, look at that!” He didn’t shout, because he knew June didn’t like shouting (and neither did Jack), but he spoke a lot louder than usual when he closed up the newly cleaned and repaired console. “All fixed! Should be good as new now, Jack, but if it’s got any other problems you come back and I’ll fix it again, okay?” 

“Okay!”

He stood, grabbing the kid (gently!) from the countertop and setting him on the floor. Then handed him the bag. “Don’t drop that now, got it?”

  
“Got it!” Jack gave him a thumbs up.

June stood as well, walking over and setting a hand on Jack’s head. “I wanna talk to Blake for a second-- Go wait in the car, okay?” She nudged Jack out the door, then turned back to Breakdown, expression abruptly turning serious. She put a hand on his shoulder. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

He blinked. “I know.”

“Good. This man of yours; he’s nice? He’s not hurting you or anything?”

Breakdown’s processor abruptly went blank. The idea of Aston intentionally hurting him completely didn’t register as a possibility. “What?”

“I’m asking if this relationship is healthy, Blake. I know you’re big and tough and you can handle yourself, and I shouldn’t be making assumptions about someone I’ve never talked to, but…” Her expression turned pained. “I know what these kinds of guys are usually like. Drifters. ‘Free spirits,’ they’ll say. I just want to make sure you’re not setting yourself up for heartbreak.”

Mostly, he appreciated the concern. It was nice knowing he had a real friend here. A small part of him, the part that was totally and completely in love with Aston, was a little bit mad at her for even suggesting he’d do such a thing. An even smaller part, the one that was riddled with anxiety (that was a lot quieter these days, since being away from Cybertron and everything that entailed) almost agreed with her worries. Aston  _ was _ a free spirit, that much was clear. He enjoyed being on the move, hated staying in one place. Breakdown hadn’t left this ‘one place’ since he’d gotten to Earth. He kind of represented stagnation as a concept. What if Aston  _ did  _ get tired of him and wanted to move on?

Breakdown realized suddenly that he honestly didn’t care. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He  _ did _ care, because he loved Aston, but it wasn’t caring in a way that would make him want to change Aston’s mind. He loved Aston (and it would take him a moment to realize that at some point ‘in love with’ had become ‘loved’) and cared that he was happy above all else. And if leaving would make him happier? Breakdown would just have to live with that.

“It’s good,” he said quietly. “It’s--  _ really _ good. He’s not really nice, but he’s nice to  _ me,  _ and he hasn’t hurt me once. I’ll be okay, June.”

She pursed her lips. “Can you promise that?”

Well. He couldn’t really promise anything, if he was being honest. A Decepticon warship could drop from the sky tomorrow and his life could be completely uprooted. He couldn’t promise that Aston wouldn’t get bored, or that something wouldn’t go wrong. He couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t mess it up somehow.

But that wasn’t what June was asking for. She just wanted to be sure  _ he _ would be alright. It was concern for his well being specifically. He was adaptable. He was tough. He could take whatever was thrown at him.

So he could promise this; “I promise I’ll be okay.” He gave her a determined grin, and after a moment she smiled back. “Cross my s-- heart.”

“Well… alright.” She paused. “You think it’s gonna go okay between you two?”

Who could tell, really?

“Yeah,” he said, ignoring the familiar twist of anxiety that he’d long-since convinced himself was unfounded. “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact the way jack's atari broke is an actual way ataris will commonly break because the internals aren't welded or affixed to the casing, they're just kinda slapped in there *and* set at a weird angle, and its mostly empty space inside. the atari 2600's frame is 2.6 times larger than the motherboard.


	12. If We'd Go Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock Out would literally never admit that he had been zoning out while driving. Not if you held a gun to his spark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay but i posted two things yesterday and didnt wanna post Another Thing. song for this chapter is uhhh "Still Loving You" by Scorpions

Knock Out would literally never admit that he had been zoning out while driving. Not if you held a gun to his spark. 

In his defense, he didn’t normally have to pay much attention. The roads around Jasper were Empty, capital E, and on the rare occasion he did pass another car they usually weren’t going any faster than forty. So he was free to just let his processor wander as he sped down the stretches of desert road. There was always something so freeing about the feeling of wind against his plating. 

He probably would have been a lot more willing to admit he just completely didn’t notice the other car approaching if he hadn’t been distracted thinking about Blake. If he hadn’t been acting like a newspark, daydreaming about his significant other. 

As he saw the other car swerve in front of him, in those few moments before the panic set in, he felt a rush of embarrassment. Blake was never going to let this go.

Then it turned to dread as he felt pain sear over his frame and his vision went hazy. The clashing of metal vanished as his audials shorted, and he just pulled his plating close and waited for the movement to stop. It finally ceased, and his audials rebooted, and there was no noise but the quiet sound of the wind across the desert and the gritty humming of his engine.

What the  _ scrap _ was that?? His first thought was Decepticons and/or Autobots, but he promptly realized they wouldn’t have left, rather stuck around to make sure he was actually dead. His second, more logical conclusion was one of the humans he’d pissed off while racing had decided to actually do something about it. His alt  _ was _ pretty recognizable, he supposed, especially when he was alone out in the middle of nowhere.

He realized as he squinted against the brightness of the sun and tried to get moving again that his directional sensors had been knocked offline. And he was upside down.

This just kept getting better, didn’t it?

He transformed one arm to shove himself back onto his front, wincing as the impact shook up his frame and further aggravated his injuries. There was no way he could fix this himself.

He supposed it was a good thing he was dating a mechanic, then.

Getting Blake’s help kind of seemed like a terrible option. It would be abundantly clear that Knock Out was not a normal car  _ or _ a normal human, and then there would be  _ questions, _ and Blake would find out he’d been  _ lying _ the whole time they’d known each other-- and  _ yes _ the guy was considerate, and understood him better than anyone else he’d ever met on this planet. But he was still just a person. He might be a little… shell-shocked.

Only Knock Out would genuinely consider forgoing medical attention so he didn’t accidentally scare his boyfriend. 

He couldn’t just ignore this or wait for self-repair to take care of it, though. Mostly because he’d bleed out before his systems would fix themselves. There was no way he’d be able to keep his holoform steady for as long as it took to do the repairs, and if he had to both concentrate on making sure his frame stayed active  _ and _ his holoform was solid enough to do delicate repair work, he’d end up burning his systems out that much faster.

He really only had one choice.

Sighing quietly, he revved his engine and pulled himself back onto the main road, going slower than he’d ever gone while driving on his own. 

The drive back into Jasper was blessedly short. He’d really only been a mile or two out of town when the crash had happened. He ignored the stares and pulled around the back of Blake’s shop, hidden from any prying eyes. Then he powered down everything non-essential so he could reroute all his remaining energy towards his holoform projector.

His holoform flickered to life, and oh good, he was bleeding profusely there too. His sunglasses were broken, probably mimicking the large crack spanning his windshield. He just had to hope Breakdown’s nurse friend didn’t see him like this. From what he knew of the woman, she’d have probably tried to hold him down while she called an ambulance. Which wouldn’t be good for  _ anyone _ involved.

The soft jingling of the bell above the door really didn’t match the urgency with which it was slammed open. Glass rattling in the panes, the door bounced off the opposite wall and swung back to close behind Knock Out as he trudged into the waiting room. The owner in question was nowhere to be seen. A moment later there was a “just a sec!” from the back office and a moment after that the door opened and Blake walked out. 

“Whadd’you…” He froze as he took in Knock Out’s injured state. “Holy--”

“I need your help,” Knock Out wheezed before he had a chance to respond. This was risky. This was  _ really _ risky. But he didn’t have any other choice-- the injuries were bad enough at this point that he was having a hard time keeping his holoform from fading as his systems frantically rerouted power to more vital operations. “Please.”

Blake hurried out from behind the counter. “Yeah, here, c’mon. Uh-- Just-- Can I… call a doctor? I’m not-- I’m not good at fixing people.”

“It’s not me.” Knock Out took a hand away from his bleeding side to grab Blake's wrist. “Outside.”

Blake was clearly confused, but followed along dutifully as Knock Out dragged him outside and to the lot beside the house. He was still in alt-mode, not only because it would be  _ way _ too painful to try and transform right now but because he wanted to give Blake at least a little time to get used to one bombshell before he dropped another. His windshield was cracked, two of his tires were flat. There were dents and scrapes all over his frame (and, he mourned, his paint was a mess). One particularly nasty crumpled part of his front bumper was welling up blue. There was a sickly puddle of mixing oil and energon beneath his cab.

“What the  _ hell?” _

“Please, just--” His holoform glitched, hand sliding through Blake's arm. The other didn’t seem to notice, too busy staring at Knock Out’s wrecked frame. “Do  _ something.” _

“Okay. Okay, I-- I will. I promise. I’ll fix you.”

Knock Out gave a wheeze of thanks, collapsing on a couch that was really some stacked boxes and spare tires. He barely felt the sting as Blake took tools to his battered frame. The man’s eyes were wide his whole time working. He  _ had _ to have noticed the alien parts under Knock Out’s hood at this point. The fact that the fuel running through his lines was  _ glowing blue. _

He didn’t say a word about it though. Just dutifully moved around Knock Out, wrapping lines and buffing scrapes and soldering gashes. He couldn’t replace the windshield (which was fine, Knock Out’s self repair would deal with that faster than it would fix his plating), but he managed to pull out all the dents and hide most of the lingering imperfections. He really  _ was _ good with a buffer. The injuries dappling Knock Out's holoform faded as his frame was repaired. Which  _ also _ should have raised some questions but, for whatever reason, didn’t. Was Blake really just that inattentive?

By the time he was no longer bleeding out in Blake's parking lot, he was about ready to fall into recharge. His hands were hazy and he could tell he was flickering at the edges.

Checking Knock Out’s engine over one last time, Blake nodded to himself and shut the hood. Now that he was fixed enough that his self-repair systems were able to start taking care of the rest, he had time to wonder just how Blake could be sure he was repaired. Cybertronian systems were quite different to human-built ones, after all. But the discrepancy was shunted to the back of his processor as his primary thought processes were all very preoccupied with the fact that  _ Blake  _ had _ to know he wasn’t human. _

“So I--” He sat up and pulled his edges together so he could at least keep  _ some _ semblance of his dignity. “I suppose you’re wondering what exactly is going on.”

Blake was silent. Knock Out took it as a sign to continue.

“Just… don’t panic.” 

And he transformed. He couldn’t stop himself from stretching a bit, having been trapped in alt-mode for  _ quite _ a while, and giving a forlorn sigh when he saw just how bad the scuffs in his paint were up close. He disconnected the holoform and looked over to where Blake was standing, stock still and looking at him with alarm.

“My name is Knock Out,” he said. “And I’m--”

“How’d you find me?!”

...What? He’d been expecting some fear, maybe a little confusion (Blake was rather good at rolling with the punches) but this kind of defensive anger was not quite one of the reactions he’d prepared for.

“What?”

“I’m not going,” Blake said, baring his teeth. “I won’t.”

“What are you--”

There was the distinct sound of a t-cog activating somewhere behind the house. Knock Out’s energon ran cold. His signal dampener was still active, how had someone found him? Had transforming to his root mode strengthened his signal somehow? Or disrupted the dampener? Why  _ now? _ Was it the Autobots? The ‘cons? Which would be  _ worse? _

He didn’t have much more time to think about it before a heavy fist came flying towards his face. He ducked to the side, stumbling backwards and out of the reach of the blue mech who stood before him, sneering and armed with a mace in place of one hand.

“Don’t give a scrap who you’re fighting for,” the mech said in a voice that was a little too familiar, “I made my life here. I ain’t going back, and I’m  _ not _ fighting your war.”

What.  _ What?? _

He probably should have asked questions, maybe “who are you” or “what are you doing here” or “who do you think sent me” but he was having trouble making a coherent thought with all the things being thrown at him in a very short amount of time. Instead of actually thinking critically about the situation all he did was sputter indignantly; “I don’t  _ want _ to go back!”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what they--” The mech blinked. “What?”

“I said,” Knock Out huffed, “I don’t want to go anywhere. I made  _ my _ life, thank you, and I don’t want to uproot it just to fight a futile war that was lost before it started.” 

“...Oh.”

“Yes,  _ oh, _ now could you put the weapon away and stop looking so threatening?”

“Oh!” The mech grinned somewhat sheepishly (and hey, that expression was awful familiar too,) and the hammer turned back into a servo. “Sorry, uh, for that. I was… nervous. Kinda on edge. It’s not every day the guy you’re kinda halfway dating turns out to be... y’know.”

“Yes, I think I do know, actually.”

What a conclusion his processor had drawn.

“...Right.” This was awkward. The other mech held out a servo. “That was rude of me, sorry. Name’s Breakdown.”

Still the same endearing awkwardness as he’d always had. At least the identical personality made the completely different appearance a little less off-putting. Knock Out rolled his optics, reaching out and taking the other’s offered greeting. “As I said, Knock Out. Nice to  _ properly _ meet you.”

“Yeah.” He laughed nervously. “How funny is that, huh? The two of us meeting. Talking and all that. Didn’t have a damn clue you were like me ‘til I saw all that energon you were leaking.” His grin faded, and he reached out towards the scratched plating of Knock Out’s chassis. “Hey, about earlier-- What even happened? Is anything still broken? I did the best I could but I'm not a medic and I--"

“I’m fine,” Knock Out snapped, pulling away. Breakdown flinched and withdrew his digits. Knock Out felt a  _ little _ bit guilty. “Just got into a little accident, that’s all.”

Breakdown frowned. “Hey,” he said softly, “it’s still me. Just-- bigger. And more compatible. I’m still the same guy.”

“Are you? Really? You  _ lied _ to me! The whole time!”

“Yeah, well, so did you!” Breakdown jabbed a digit into his chest, thankfully not directly over an injured part. Probably aimed away from the injuries on purpose, the considerable piece of scrap he was. “We  _ both _ lied to each other! In a really stupid… convoluted way.” The anger in his expression faded and turned to bewildered annoyance. “We could have told each other the truth  _ ages _ ago and avoided so many issues.”

Knock Out couldn’t keep his anger up either, the bitterness fading into a similarly annoyed sense of amusement. “It  _ was _ rather foolish of us, keeping up the charade for so long. I suppose we ought to start being a bit more honest, hm?”

Breakdown nodded. “I--I wanna be honest. I want to get to know you, the real you, without having to pretend we’re anything other than what we are.” His expression was so full of honest, hopeful longing that it made Knock Out’s spark twist. “That… sound okay to you?”

The petty part of him that usually dictated how he handled arguments wanted to stay bitter. Wanted to rant and rave about how Breakdown had lied, how he’d been hiding the truth, coerced Knock Out into something without fully informing him. But then the logical part of his processor reminded him that he’d done just as much lying as Breakdown, and the both of them had been a little uninformed about the whole thing. And he wasn’t  _ that _ much of a hypocrite.

“That sounds just fine.” He reached out and, ignoring Breakdown’s flinch, patted the other mech’s chest a couple times. “I think we’re quite overdue for an honest conversation.”

“Right. Okay.”

Knock Out transformed (and while he almost expected it to hurt, it was irritating at worst, Breakdown really did an excellent job fixing him up) and waited for Breakdown to do the same before pulling out of the lot and onto the main road. The other mech followed at a distance. But he didn’t stop or run away or anything, which was the important part.

He drove out of town, for long enough that the sun was setting by the time he found a place to stop, and waited for Breakdown to catch up before transforming back to root. He took a seat on an outcropping of stone.

Breakdown hesitated.

“Come on,” Knock Out said, shifting to make enough space for the larger mech. “I don’t bite. Not unless you ask me to.”

A nervous laugh spilled from Breakdown’s vocalizer as he took the offered seat. 

Several minutes passed in silence. The sun continued setting, casting both them and the desert around them in shades of molten gold.

“This planet is lovely,” Knock Out said quietly. 

“Yeah.”

“Even if they figure out what they’re doing up there,” he gestured vaguely upwards, in the direction of where Cybertron may or may not have been, “I’m not sure I’ll want to go back. There’s so much expected of you, so many performances you need to put on, but here… here you can just exist. As you are. No bars you have to reach for. I’m sure you understand, you’ve lived here for some time too, after all.”

“Yeah. I get it.” Breakdown was fidgeting with his servos. “I was never super fast, y’know? Which-- which made living where I did kinda hard.”

“Velocitron?”

“Yeah. And even my old alt wasn’t all that fast, so…” He grimaced. “You can probably imagine.”

Knock Out made an affirming noise. Breakdown fidgeted a moment before speaking up; "How about you?"

"Hm?"

"Where were you from?"

"Ah," Knock Out said, splaying his fingers together. There was some internal debate on just how honest he should be before he finally decided he might as well go for broke and answered. "Vos."

"Vos? But you…" He gestured vaguely at Knock Out. "I mean-- I'm not judging, of course. I just… didn't think they really…"

"They didn't. Had to leave the city to find a surgeon willing to do the work I wanted. I'm a good medic, but not good enough to do surgery on myself while in stasis." He waved a servo towards the tires on his back. "Kibble's usually a lot less obtrusive, you know? Didn't really have anywhere to put them without adding more bulk than I wanted. So they just stuck them where the wings went."

"Oh."

"Mm."

"Well you look good," Breakdown said, a little awkwardly, but the intent was there. "I don’t really have a basis of comparison, but-- y'know. Ground frame suits you."

"Thank you." He knew he was gorgeous. Always nice to hear someone else say it, though.

"You're welcome."

They lapsed back into silence. It was comfortable enough-- awkward, but it was bound to be after the revelations they’d had today. Truth be told, Knock Out was kind of enjoying just sitting here and enjoying the sunset with Breakdown. It was that sappy sort of thing that the movies would talk about. But it was quiet, and it was peaceful, and the amber lighting made everything all that more beautiful. Even Breakdown’s bulky frame had an air of grace about it. 

But they couldn’t just sit here forever. They’d come all this way for a reason.

“I need time.”

“You… need time.” Hurt. So much hurt in Breakdown’s expression. There was an uncomfortable twisting somewhere in the region of Knock Out’s spark chamber. That expression on Breakdown’s face combined with the knowledge that it was  _ Knock Out’s  _ fault was not a nice feeling in the slightest.

“It’s not a no,” he amended, because that needed to be made clear; Knock Out was  _ not _ turning Breakdown away. Not now, and not ever. “It’s a ‘not yet.’ I know that your intention was never to deceive me, but I can’t just…” He huffed. Words were hard. He didn’t want to spill all his terrible history right now. Not like this, not when everything was already so tense. “I need time.”

Breakdown was silent for a few moments. Then-- “Okay,” he said quietly. “That’s okay. I understand. Take all the time you need.”

Clearly not happy, but also not trying to stop him. It made Knock Out’s spark warm. He gave the other mech an appreciative smile as he stood, facing the sun, which had almost entirely dipped below the horizon. He glanced back at Breakdown, murmured a “see you soon,” then with a quick transformation he was driving off and back towards Jasper. 

He was  _ not _ running away. Not from this.


	13. We’ll Keep It Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakdown had watched Knock Out drive away, and it seemed like the convertible had taken the ardor in Breakdown’s life with him. Which sounded rather dramatic, until he looked at his reflection in the glass of a television he was fixing and realized his holoform had literally lost all its color for a few moments. Thankfully not long enough to be noticed by the client, but long enough that he was able to realize just how dull everything had felt lately.
> 
> Most of the customers that came into his shop were polite enough not to make mention of it. 
> 
> June, however, was not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awooga.. song for this chapter is "Your Love" by The Outfield.
> 
> also im writing a side story for this now bc i wrote that thing w kobd and miko and was like "Hey. But what if." so thatll be going up once this is done
> 
> oh fuck i meant to post this in the evening. welp whatever have it early ig

Breakdown had watched Knock Out drive away, and it seemed like the convertible had taken the ardor in Breakdown’s life with him. Which sounded rather dramatic, until he looked at his reflection in the glass of a television he was fixing and realized his holoform had literally lost all its color for a few moments. Thankfully not long enough to be noticed by the client, but long enough that he was able to realize just how dull everything had felt lately.

Most of the customers that came into his shop were polite enough not to make mention of it. 

June, however, was not.

“You look like crap,” she said bluntly as she stepped into his shop.

“Thanks.”

“Sorry.” She didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. “What’s the matter?”

Breakdown sighed, hoping the noise wasn’t as mournful as it sounded to him. “It’s nothing. Just haven’t had a great week.”

June frowned. Pinned by that patented ‘mom look’ she was so proud of, Breakdown started fidgeting in his seat. She kept staring, and he kept fidgeting, and he kind of felt like he was about to start crying before she finally spoke; “Something’s clearly bothering you, and as your friend, I’m not going to stop asking unless you tell me.”

Damn. She was persuasive.

Breakdown sighed again, crossing his arms on the counter and resting his head on them. “I messed up big time, June.”

June grabbed one of the waiting room chairs and pulled it over.

“It’s…” He sighed again. “Y’know that guy I’ve been seeing?” She nodded, immediately tensing. His thoughts flickered back to their last discussion, where he’d reassured her that everything was fine. Two days later Ast-- No, Knock Out had stumbled in, bleeding. He’d brought Breakdown outside and shown him… Himself. And he was  _ just like Breakdown. _ So at least compatibility wasn’t exactly a question.

He knew it was hypocritical. It still hurt, watching Knock Out drive away.

“What did he do?” Oh, dear, June sounded ready to kill someone.

“No, it wasn’t him!” Breakdown slumped over the counter.“We… well, we had a bit of a falling out recently. He found out I was lying to him about something, and then I found out  _ he _ was lying to  _ me _ about something, and we kinda… both got really mad about it. We talked, and he said he needed time, but I don’t know what he meant by that. I haven’t seen him in a week and he just drove off without telling me when he’d be back and--” He cut off as June winced and he realized he’d started raising his voice. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she said. “Did he say he wanted to break things off?”

“No. He made  _ that _ clear at least.”  _ It’s not a no. _ “But I just-- I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault. ‘Cause yeah he was lying to me too, but he told the truth first. I was only honest ‘cause I thought I was in trouble. And he’s clearly been lied to before, and it messed him up, and I’m just… worried I might’ve ruined everything.”

June tapped on the counter a couple times. “Well, first of all, you shouldn’t have lied. A relationship built on lies is doomed to fail from the start.”

Breakdown winced. “I know. It was… kind of a safety thing, though. For both of us. If we’d been anyone else, telling the truth could’ve landed us each in a whole heap of trouble.” If Breakdown had been an Autobot. If Knock Out had been an Autobot. If either of them had been Decepticons. If either of them had been  _ human. _ They could’ve gotten into some serious hot water very, very quickly.

“That’s understandable, I suppose. Still. You’ve both told each other the truth now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And he didn’t say he wanted to break things off for good?”

“He didn’t.”

“Then I think everything’s going to turn out just fine.” She stood and reached over the counter so she could set a gentle hand on his arm. “If you really love each other-- which from the way you talk about him, I think you do-- you’ll figure it out. Just give it a little time, okay? He’ll come back. You’ll see.”

He looked up at her, pouting slightly; “you really think so?”

She kind of looked like she wanted to laugh at his expression, but she just sighed. “I do. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I’m an idealist, or optimistic. I know what men are like. But I’ve just got this feeling that he’s different than the rest.”

She had  _ no _ idea. It was still helpful. “Thanks, June. Really.” He sat up. “You came in here for your radio, right? It’s in the back, all fixed up, let me go get it.” He stood and ducked into the back room, trying to remember where he’d put the little device after he’d finished fixing it. (And upgrading it, slightly, not that he’d ever tell June what exactly he’d done to it.)

The sound of the bell was muffled by the walls between the waiting room and the rest of the shop, but June’s voice cut through clear as day;

  
“Oh, hello there! Sorry, am I in your way?”

“Ah… no, it’s fine.” Breakdown froze. “I’m… simply here to see the owner.”

“Are you a friend of Blake’s?”

“You could say that.”

His reasoning for being back there disappeared instantly, and he was on his feet heading back into the waiting room before he could think to wait. He saw June first, standing by the counter, and looking towards the door where…

“Uh,” Breakdown said. “...Hi.”

Aston-- Knock Out-- jolted. Looked at him. “Br-- Blake. Hello.” He fidgeted, the nervous air unfamiliar on him, and glanced at June (who was looking between the two with an expression that was growing more suspicious by the second.) “I can come back later if--”

“No!” Flinches from both of them at the volume. Which then made Breakdown himself flinch. “Sorry. I mean no, it’s okay. Stay. Please. I’ll just be a minute.”

“Don’t worry about it,” June said, “I can come back another day. I think you two should talk.” She’d definitely figured out that this was the person Breakdown had been talking about. She gave him a pointed look, glanced towards Knock Out once, then headed for the door. Knock Out stepped out of her way to let her through.

And they were left alone in the shop with the quiet jingling of a bell. A few moments of silence passed.

“I’m--”

  
“I’m sorry.”

Breakdown stared. Knock Out fidgeted with his hands, the zippers on his coat, and after a moment he reached up and removed his sunglasses. He tucked them into the collar of his jacket. Then he looked up at Breakdown with eyes that were definitely red, no questions about it, and bit his lip. 

“I think we should talk.”


	14. Don't Look Back, You Can Never Look Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock Out wouldn’t admit it until far in the future, when they were both a bit more comfortable and a bit more sure of themselves, but he had considered leaving. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AWOOGA HERE WE GO LAST CHAPTER
> 
> last OFFICIAL chapter anyways. Song for this chapter is "The Boys of Summer" by Don Henley, and the link to the full Spotify playlist (featuring the cover i made that im not really happy with but dont care to redo) is [HERE](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0QLEhQInZtD3saI3p8dtOL?si=aDAlWlZ3T-C3JoK8bmICIA)

Knock Out wouldn’t admit it until far in the future, when they were both a bit more comfortable and a bit more sure of themselves, but he had considered leaving. 

He’d driven in the direction of Jasper, but he could have easily driven through the town and kept going. Disappeared. He could’ve changed his alt, his holoform, started going by a different name. He could’ve made it impossible for Breakdown to find him. And yet, to the surprise of none more-so than himself, he didn’t really want to.

He knew he couldn’t just go rushing back immediately. First of all, it would make him look silly, and completely ruin the aloof image he tried to keep. Secondly, and slightly more seriously, he hadn’t been kidding when he said he needed time.

Breakdown had been right to lie to him. Hell, he’d lied to Breakdown as well. And they’d both been completely justified in doing so. They had no way of knowing the other wasn’t going to rat them out to the human government or the Autobots or Decepticons. It had been for their mutual safety to keep their true natures on the down-low. Knock Out just wished the reveal had been a little less of an incident. Normally he lived for dramatics, but that whole mess had just been awkward and uncomfortable. He might have tried to just fix himself if he’d known what going to Breakdown for help was going to cause.

Except… this was better, really. Both of them knowing. Knock Out knew he was gorgeous in every form, but he liked the feeling of having someone he didn’t have to hide the truth around.

Breakdown had agreed to talk immediately, though he had been the one to suggest they go somewhere quiet so that they could talk without holograms or the risk of being caught getting in the way. A few minutes later they were out on the road, Knock Out leading with Breakdown following a few paces behind. Maybe it was a little patronizing, but he kept himself from going too fast that Breakdown would struggle to keep up.

They ended up at the same overlook that they’d stopped at that fateful night, when they’d first decided to make themselves something official. It looked a good bit different in the daytime. The distant cluster of buildings that was Jasper blended in with the desert, and the heat coming off the ground made everything in the distance slightly hazy. Not quite the same appeal as the streak of a galaxy like the view at night, but it held its own sort of rugged beauty. Much, he supposed, like his companion.

Once he was sure they were alone, that there were no humans lingering hidden behind some inconspicuous stone, Knock Out transformed and sat down at the edge of the cliff, pedes hanging in the open air. A moment later there was the sound of a t-cog activating and Breakdown sat next to him.

“So,” Knock Out said quietly, awkwardly, “how have you been?”

“Um. Not bad.”

Knock Out gave him a withering look. Breakdown really sucked at lying.

The other mech winced and, apparently realizing Knock Out could tell he wasn’t being entirely truthful, amended his answer; “Not great. But I could’ve been worse.”

“Likely could have been better, though.” A sigh. “Breakdown, I--”

“It’s okay.”

The whole speech he’d prepared where he was going to apologize and explain his history and try to convince Breakdown that he wasn’t always so flaky, really, abruptly died on his vocalizer as the other mech cut him off. He gave Breakdown a dubious look, to which Breakdown merely shrugged. He looked as casual as ever.

“Things were kinda hectic. You needed time. You don’t gotta apologize or explain it any more than that; I get it. And it’s okay.”

Oh. The simple acceptance and comfort made something in Knock Out’s spark chamber flutter. “Well,” he said, leaning back on his servos. There went literally all the control he may or may not have had over the situation. Time to fall back on his usual confidence. “I suppose if we’re not going to waste time on that, we’ll have to occupy ourselves another way. What could we possibly do with our time instead?” he said, optics flicking to look at Breakdown as he spoke.

Breakdown’s cheeks flushed (and it was adorable that the habit carried over in this form), then he shook his head. “Why does  _ everything _ you say end up sounding like an innuendo?”

Knock Out laughed. Truthfully, he hadn’t intended to be so flirtatious just then, but the reaction it had gotten him was definitely acceptable. He put on a mockingly offended expression, pressing one servo to his chest. “Why, Breakdown, get your processor out of the gutter! I’m trying to make simple conversation and here you are, taking all my words the wrong way, letting me  _ get under your plating _ so easily--”

Wheezing laughter and a servo (gently) shoving against his face cut him off. “Stop, stop, I’m gonna blow a capacitor--”

This was nice. It had been a long time since Knock Out had been able to just enjoy someone’s company like this, without worrying about having to keep a holoform projected or remember enough about human culture to not blow his cover. The ground was warm where he sat, and Breakdown was a gentle presence next to him, and he found himself shifting to the side without thinking so he could lean against the other mech.

Breakdown stilled, and Knock Out internally cursed.

“Wait,” Breakdown said, curling an arm around him as soon as Knock Out went to pull away with an apology on the edge of his vocalizer. His grip tightened, a silent question, and after a few moments of consideration Knock Out nodded and pressed against Breakdown’s side again.

They sat there, looking out over the desert, two mechs who didn’t belong.

When Knock Out spoke, his voice was quiet; “I like this planet,” he murmured. “You don’t have to be anything else except what you are.” And really, that was the gist of it. Functionism was all but unknown here, and the few mentions of it he’d run across made it clear that the term didn’t quite mean the same thing as it had on Cybertron. He didn’t get and scornful looks for his lack of wings, his choice of alt-mode. He didn’t get biting comments about his vanity or scathing remarks targeting all his worst insecurities. This place was  _ freedom. _

“Yeah. I like it here too.” Breakdown’s digits traced patterns against Knock Out’s arm. “I’m gonna stay. And… I’d like it if you stayed with me.”

There it was. The reason they’d come out here in the first place. In the end, really, the way this would go was up to Knock Out.  _ He _ was the one who had asked for time, who had stepped away. He was the one who needed to make a decision. With or without him, Breakdown wouldn’t be leaving. 

The idea of striking out on his own again made his tanks twist. He didn’t want to be alone again, like he was for so long after fleeing his home, wandering aimlessly. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay. And, as he realized with sudden clarity,  _ Breakdown _ wanted him to stay.

The decision was easy to make.

“If you’ll have me,” Knock Out said against muted blue plating. “I’ve been looking for somewhere to settle down. Somewhere nice, with a nice mech, like my elders always told me I should. Somehow I don’t think this is what they had in mind, but what can they do about it?”

He didn’t need to see Breakdown’s face to know the other mech was grinning. He could feel it in the purring rumble of his engine, in the way his digits curled around Knock Out’s plating.

It seemed easy. It  _ was _ easy. But… it might not always be. “What will we do? If someone comes looking?” The universe was big, but there were a lot of folks who had fled Cybertron. Probably more leaving by the day if the war was as bad as it seemed it would get. And if both he and Breakdown had managed to land on the same planet, it wasn’t absurd to believe someone else might end up there too. Someone who wasn’t so keen to just live peacefully. “What if they bring their war here?”

The arm around him tightened, and he was sure his paint was getting scraped somewhere, but he couldn’t really bring himself to get all that upset about it. At Breakdown’s lack of a response, he pulled away enough to look up and see the troubled expression on the other mech’s face.

“We won’t be able to fight off an army,” Knock Out continued, almost prompting. “Will we run? Where can we go?”

“I’m not running,” Breakdown said tightly. “I’m sick of running. I like it here, and I’m  _ staying. _ ” The harshness of his voice and grip faded, and he sighed. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen. They might come here, or they won’t, but we found this place first. We made it ours. And I’m not gonna let anyone take it away from us.” 

It was reassuring. Knowing that if (when, most likely) the war came to this planet, he wouldn’t have to face it alone.

“Well. I suppose we’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

“Guess we will,” Breakdown said. “Won’t have to do it alone, though. That makes it a lot easier.”

“I’ve gotten quite tired of being alone.” The novelty had worn off within the first year or so. He’d been far from an introvert before all this, then spending so much time alone having to hide who he really was? It was almost like being back in Vos.

“Yeah, me too. I don’t wanna go back to that.”

“It doesn’t hold much appeal.” Knock Out threw caution to the wind and shifted close enough that he could sling one leg over Breakdown’s and tug himself up into the larger mech’s lap. It was a bit precarious, considering there was a sheer drop before them and he’d have a hard time keeping himself balanced, but Breakdown was strong and he immediately moved his servos to hold Knock Out against him. His spark did that little fluttery thing again. “So I think I’ll stay right here.”

“I like you here,” Breakdown said simply, optics flicking over Knock Out’s frame. “You look good.”

Knock Out laughed, and Breakdown grinned. And, with sand in his plating and the sun making him a little too warm (and the mech he was seated on making him a  _ lot _ too warm) and his frame humming like he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else, Knock Out let Breakdown pull him close.

Maybe this place had started out feeling frightening and unfamiliar. But now?

Now it just felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank u all for sticking with it this long ^v^ this isnt the last thing im gonna do with this universe, ive got several side stories plus a sort-of-sequel and a bunch of random ideas in the works, but this is the end of THIS story at least.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, Blake.”
> 
> Breakdown looked up at June where he sat behind the counter with one brow raised. Her tone implied there was something she wanted to tell him, probably gossip. “So, June.”
> 
> “Have you seen the newcomers in town?”
> 
> Newcomers? “Don’t think I have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE EPILOGUE
> 
> this takes place ten years after the rest of the main story, and six years after the adoption one. they dont show up but jack is 16 and miko is 15 as per their canon ages
> 
> no particular song for this chapter, but we're in the 90s now, so feel free to listen to barbie girl or any other number of 90s pop songs on loop

“So, Blake.”

Breakdown looked up at June where he sat behind the counter with one brow raised. Her tone implied there was something she wanted to tell him, probably gossip. “So, June.”

“Have you seen the newcomers in town?”

Newcomers? “Don’t think I have.”

June had made it something of a habit to come by during the day on her lunch breaks. Hospital food was pretty terrible, and since Miko’s stay became a bit more permanent than any of them had expected, he’d become a halfway decent cook. So he’d make lunch for June and then the two of them would sit there gossiping until June had to go back to work.

“Neither have I,” continued June, “and that’s _weird,_ isn’t it? Normally when someone new shows up they’re impossible to miss, everyone talks about seeing them at least once. But I haven’t seen anything of these people.” 

He tilted his head. “If you haven’t seen them, how do you know about them?”

“Well, I haven’t seen _them,_ but I’ve seen their cars. Kinda hard to miss, actually.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, alarm bells went off. He would have paid a little more attention to them if there hadn’t been the sound of a familiar engine steadily growing louder outside that sent his spark racing. He sent a silent ping, a _[We have company],_ and a moment later there was also the sound of a car door slamming. June perked up. 

“Oh, is that Aston? I haven’t seen him lately, how’s he been?”

“Yep,” Breakdown said, unable to stop himself from grinning. “He was on a business trip. Been good, so he’s said at least, he’d call me whenever he stopped at a place with a payphone.”

June stood to go peer out the window. “Did he get a new car?”

_Scrap._ “Wouldn’t surprise me,” Breakdown said easily, as though he wasn’t internally panicking, “he’s got, eh, attachment issues. Likes to trade in the old model for a new one every now and then, he told me once. Think the past decade is about the longest he’s had the same one.”

“Pretty fancy,” she said, nodding appreciatively. Breakdown stamped down the completely unnecessary flare of jealousy. She didn’t know. “Did he go overseas?”

“Probably. He’s got a tendency towards foreign models.” 

The bell above the door (not the same as it had been back then, that old one had fallen off the wall after one particularly hectic day involving a malfunctioning holomatter generator) jingled merrily, and Knock Out strolled in, grinning as he took his sunglasses off and slipped them into his pocket. 

“June!” he said, “What a surprise!” As though Breakdown hadn’t pinged him a minute earlier. “Lovely to see you, as always.”

“You too, Aston. Nice wheels.”

Knock Out’s grin widened lecherously. “Aren’t they just? Thought I’d try a bit more gold in my accents this time, silver was starting to get tiring.” He moved around to hang his coat by the door that led to their apartment, then stepped up to Breakdown’s side to lean down and kiss his forehead. “Hello, dear.”

Breakdown gave a stupid little smile, as he still always did when Knock Out doled out such simple signs of affection. “Hey there.”

“Miss me much?” 

“You know I did. And--” he gently whacked Knock Out’s arm, “ _warn me_ next time you’re planning on coming home with a new car?”

A pout. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that! I do,” he quickly amended, “you’ve got great taste. Very pretty.” He always was, no matter what alt-mode he chose. Breakdown still had the same one he’d had since he landed here. _[Seriously, you’re beautiful. We can take a drive later after Miko goes to bed and I’ll show you just how much I think it’s true.]_ “I’d just like a little more heads-up.”

Knock Out’s expression went soft, and he leaned down to plant a kiss on Breakdown’s lips. “Well thank you, dear. I’ll be sure to let you know next time.”

June made a cooing noise. Breakdown mimed throwing his magazine at her.

She laughed, waving at him protestingly, then settled back into her seat. “Oh, right, so, these new people I was telling you about.”

Knock Out looked at her curiously. “New people?”

“Right,” Breakdown said, those quiet alarm bells starting up again. “Go on, June. You saw their cars?” Next to him, he felt Knock Out tense.

“Well, there’s… five or six of them, I think.” She sat down again, leaning back in her chair. “A muscle car, a motorcycle, a Dodge something? A big beefy looking off-roader, a big rig, and an _ambulance_ of all things. I wouldn’t have noticed them if they weren’t all so, well, noticeable. Like-- that’s a weird collection of cars, right? And I never see anybody get out of them, they only ever drive through like they’re going to somewhere else, but I see them _often._ One time I swear I saw the motorcycle pass me by without a rider.”

Knock Out’s hand settled on Breakdown’s shoulder, and at the last sentence, his fingers curled and Breakdown felt his pointed nails digging into his skin. He hissed quietly, and Knock Out smoothed over the spot with a quiet apology.

_[Do you think?]_

Breakdown bit his lip. _[Maybe. Autobots or Cons, though?]_

_[Neither are good.]_

“That does sound odd,” Knock Out said, no hint of any of the internal anxiety Breakdown knew he was feeling. “Anything else particularly noticeable about them?”

“Well they’re all really colorful, and I mean that in the literal sense. No offense to your tastes of course, Aston, you make the red look good,” (Knock Out couldn’t help but preen at that), “but these guys don’t even _match._ I mean, the big rig looks like a child’s toy sized up. _Bright_ red and blue. And there was this weird symbol on the grill…”

Knock Out produced a piece of paper and a pen from… somewhere, setting them on the counter and sliding it forward. “Think you could draw it?”

“Yeah, probably.” June stood, leaning over the counter and scribbling on the paper for a moment before sliding it back over. “You guys know cars, is it a brand or something?”

Deftly swiping the paper before Knock Out could take it, Breakdown held it so they could both see, and felt his internals twist. It was crudely drawn and decidedly inaccurate, but it was still easy to recognize the Autobots’ icon. He just hoped his expression wasn’t as telling as his field. Knock Out’s hand settled on his shoulder again, this time squeezing it in a show of comfort.

“Can’t say we recognize it,” Knock Out said, crumpling up the paper and tossing it in a bin in the corner. “We’ll let you know if we think of anything, though.” 

“Alright then,” June said. There was a shrill beep and she winced before reaching into her pocket and taking out a small electronic pager. “Shoot, it’s the hospital,” she got to her feet and sighed. “My lunch break technically ended ten minutes ago, I better get going." She stood, looking over at the two of them. "Gosh, sometimes it seems like you two haven't aged a day since we met."

"Oh, you know," Knock Out said, a cryptic smile on his face, patting Breakdown's head. “They me young."

June laughed. She turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, right, I meant to ask-- did you guys want to come over for dinner tomorrow night? I have the day off and thought I’d cook something nice. You can bring Miko, too, I’m sure she and Jack won’t mind hanging out while we talk.”

The two looked at each other. “Maybe not dinner,” Knock Out said carefully, “we have family plans, but we’d be happy to stop by sometime during the day.” They _could_ eat, technically, it’d be hard to keep up the illusion if they couldn’t, but it didn’t exactly feel good and that meant they had to use extra energy making the holoavatars capable of actually consuming food. So they avoided it whenever possible.

June knew that. But she still offered.

“Fair enough. Try to do so after ten AM if you can, Jack likes to sleep late on weekends.”

“Yeah, so does Miko. Think it’s just a teenager thing.” Breakdown lifted one hand in a wave. “Tell the kid we said hey.”

“Will do!” June waved, then headed out the front door, the sound of her own car starting up and fading a moment later.

As soon as she was gone, Knock Out’s expression went from a pleasant smile to concerned and frowning. “Maybe we _should_ start aging,” he said quietly, looking down at his arms. “I sort of forgot humans did that.”

“You forgot they aged??”

  
  
“Well, I forgot they were _obvious_ about it at least. And had such short lifespans.” He hummed. “What do you think, I could wear fifty well.” As he spoke, he reached up to trail his fingers through his hair, and flecks of white followed the gesture. “See? Now I look like you.”

“Very funny. You’d look gorgeous no matter what age you displayed yourself as,” Breakdown said. “But I think we have bigger problems than that.”

Knock Out’s expression soured further. “Right,” he said. “Autobots. It _had_ to be Autobots.”

“Would you have preferred Decepticons?”

He huffed, nudging Breakdown to scoot out enough from behind the counter that he could plop down on his lap. “I would have _preferred_ they’d kept their war to themselves and left our planet alone. But… I suppose out of the two of them, the ones who _aren’t_ known for killing anyone who refuses to join them are _preferable._ ”

“They might try to make us join since we’re here, though.” He wrapped his arms around Knock Out and pulled him close. “Especially since they’re probably involved with the government.” His partner made a vaguely disgusted noise at that. “I know.”

“Why couldn’t they just have left us alone?” Knock Out mumbled, tucking his head against Breakdown’s chest. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“We haven’t,” Breakdown said, running his hands up and down Knock Out’s back in a comforting gesture, “you’re right. But hey, they haven’t actually bothered us yet. They might not even know we’re here. Our signal dampeners are still working. We’ll just… have to be a little more wary about transforming when we go on drives.” They’d probably also want to let Miko know, so she knew to be wary of any strange vehicles. If the Autobots figured out she was connected to them…

...Well, they wouldn’t hurt her, because even if the Autobots were kind of slagged up as a whole unit, they usually had qualms against the senseless murder of organics. 

Knock Out pouted at him. “I don’t _want_ to be wary. We were here first.”

“I know. But sometimes we gotta compromise. Hey,” he said gently, curling a finger under Knock Out’s chin to tilt his head up, “remember what we promised? Back then? That whatever happened, whatever the future brought, we’d figure it out, and we’d do it _together._ So even if the Autobots do come knocking, it’ll be okay. I’ll be right by your side. And you won’t have to face them on your own.” 

Knock Out sighed. “I know. I trust you won’t leave. I just… wish things wouldn’t change. They’ve been so nice for so long. I suppose we should have expected something to go wrong.”

“Change has a way of showin’ up whether you want it to or not.”

He pulled Knock Out close again, and Knock Out shifted himself around so he could wrap his arms around Breakdown in return and tuck his head into the crook of his neck. He stretched his legs out and set his heels on the frame of the chair.

_We’ll figure it out,_ Breakdown thought as he looked up at the front window just in time to spot a broad streak of bright red and blue drive past.

_We always do._

**Author's Note:**

> CATPIE DID ART [GO LOOK NOW](https://acatpiestuff.tumblr.com/post/637721534517084160/whirlandcos-kobd-holoform-designs-for-his-fic)


End file.
